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strawbeerossi · 7 months

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Magic Touch

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: When you hurt your back in the field, Spencer offers to give you a massage. Then he tells you a little fact about men and women who orgasm without sexual stimulation during massages.

Content/Warnings: Talks of field injuries, talks of orgasms, massaging, Spencer’s expert hands are mentioned like 4 separate times, cumming untouched (sort of).

Word Count: 1.3K

Kinktober Day Eight: Massage

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

There have been plenty of tumbles in the field that left you sore for days on end. It came with the territory, plus you weren’t exactly the most agile. It was after you had solved a child abduction case, the child was safe in police custody while you had a chase with the unsub in question. You’d seemed to have pulled a muscle or something, being in so much pain that you were laying on the floor of the living room when you’d gotten home.

“Why are you on the floor?” Spencer asked, an eyebrow raised as he couldn’t help but chuckle. “My back.” You groaned, face being muffled by the fluffy rug that your face was resting on. “It’s that bad? Do you think a backrub will help?” The idea of his skilled hands was heaven, honestly.

“Maybe..”

“I’m not sitting on the floor. Come on.” He chuckled, hands held out towards you so he could help you to your feet. The way you winced made him do the same out of sympathy pains. “I know it hurts. We will get you sorted.” He assured, one hand gently resting on your lower back before walking to the bedroom alongside you. “After this, I may have to get you some ice or maybe a heating pad. I think we have one..” He was mostly murmuring to himself, his brain figuring out what exactly he needed to ensure that your back got better as fast as possible.

“Go ahead and get undressed. Lay down.” He assured while he was heading to his bedside drawer to fish around for a bottle of lotion that surely had to be carelessly tossed in there. The feeling of the smooth container was what prompted him to pull out the half full bottle of lotion. “I was looking for that!” You grunted, making Spencer put his free hand up in self defense. “You threw it in there, not me.” He chuckled while heading over to sit on the edge of the bed after you’d stripped down to your underwear and laid on the mattress, cheek squished against your pillow. “Please fix me.” You begged in a playful tone.

Spencer was shaking his head with a chuckle, rolling up his sleeves before he was moving to squirt a generous amount of lotion into the palm of his hand. “It smells really good. I think this is the rosewater one that mom gave you.” He spoke while rubbing his hands together.

You shivered at the feeling of the cold lotion on his hands hitting your bare skin. Even with the warmth of his hands, it wasn’t enough. “Cold,” You groaned. “Oh shush, you big baby.” Spencer commented while his palms were flat against your back, his firm touch pulling a soft moan from your lips. “Better?” He asked, chuckling as he continued to put pressure into your back as his hands glided across your skin with ease.

“Much better.” You slurred. The pressure was heaven sent, his hands doing more than making you drool when you linger too hard looking at them. He was useful for some things. “Good.” He responded in a soft tone.

Like any man, Spencer’s generosity began to play to his own benefit. His hands were slowly moving to your lower back as he continued on with his good deed for the day. “Spencer.” You warned, feeling his hands moving to play with the waistband of your panties, a light hum leaving his lips. “What?! I’m helping.” He commented, trying to use that sweet little innocent tone of voice as his hands were gripping a good handful of your ass, making you squeak softly while lifting your head.

“You are such a man.” You scoffed, although you offered a smile as he was leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “I’m just giving my girlfriend a massage! I have no idea what you are talking about.” He mused, hands continuing to trail down to your thighs while generously rubbing them, nudging your thighs apart with a soft hum. “You should ask me to do this more often.” He spoke, his hands working your thighs while you were already feeling the arousal smack you right in the face.

“Did you know that there are some men and women who can orgasm from just a massage alone? It’s actually a really interesting study.” You weren’t fully listening, the circles in your inner thighs making your body hot, face flushed. “I think that we should test the theory.’ he’d suggested, making your head nod slowly. “We should,” You were letting out a groan of satisfaction as Spencer was squeezing your thighs with a grin. “Good! I’m gonna try not to touch you sexually even though.. You make it really hard not to.” he chuckled, putting pressure into your thighs again before his hands were moving to your legs.

Now, normally massages get people in the mood regardless. After all, there's a reason why people joke about only wanting a backrub when they get pregnant. You’d never heard of anyone cumming on the sole basis of having their body worked and no sexual contact, however the sensuality of it made sense. That’s why you were squirming in your spot from the skilled, large hands on your body.

“I’m gonna move to your hips.” He informed, dragging his fingertips down your body. The moment he was putting that pressure, your mouth was agape as a loud moan echoed through the room, which Spencer took as a perfect sign to continue caressing your skin, which was hot and now had a thin layer of sweat. “Oh fuck,” You cursed, making your boyfriend chuckle. “Feels good? You look so sexy right now. Who would’ve thought that I could turn you on just by massaging you? Think you can cum like this?” He’d asked, your face buried in the pillow under your head as you were completely transfixed on the expert hands gripping and rubbing at your body.

“I have an idea,” He began and pulled his hands away, gently rolling you onto your stomach. “Hi there.” He cooed, chuckling at your glossed over eyes and fucked out expression. “I’m gonna do something that I know you like. It may be breaking the rules just a little bit but I wanna see that gorgeous face when you cum.” He mused, hands grasping at your hips again, however this time he let them slide up your torso. You know what was coming the moment that his gaze had fallen on your breasts.

As his hands were cupping both tits on your chest, he was letting his hands knead at the balls of flesh and fat, thumbs swiping over your hardened nipples. “Look at you falling apart right now.” He chuckled, one hand moving to tweak your nipple and elicited a whine. “I’m gonna cum, Spencer.”

All of the overwhelming touches and the both of you learning your pressure points was actually a fun experience. You would opt out of only getting a massage next time but hey, it was an interesting study. His hands found themselves at your hips again, that seemingly being the best place to touch you.

It took a few times before you were letting out an airy moan, head tilting back as your hands came down to grip at his wrists. Your thighs were shaking as you hit your peak, panties being soiled with your creamy arousal as Spencer had the pleasure to watch the cloth dampen.

“Holy shit.” You huffed out, making Spencer laugh. “Well, I hope that helped your back.” He mused, leaning down to press a kiss against your lips. You had gently rested a hand against his chest after parting ways.

“Should we try to make you cum from just a massage? I don’t wanna brag but I’d say I’m pretty good with my hands.” You teased, making the male crinkle his nose with a smile.

“Well, I am a man of science. It would be wrong to deny a scientific experiment.”

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cal-flakes · 2 months

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can i pls see gun kink thoughts with rafe. real coked out and crazy, choking u with the barrel 😋

is this deranged ? probs? love u the mostest!!

it is deranged. but i also fucking love it. so maybe we are deranged. i adore u — also, i unfortunately get off on edging you mf’s so please don’t hate me when it cuts off.

‧₊🫧꒷꒦‧₊˚⋆

— “y’think you’re the boss huh? parading yourself around in those little skirts? infront of my friends?” he spat, grip tight on your jaw, forcing your eyes on him. you attempted to shake your head, yet winced as his hold only got firmer.

rafe pushed you backwards as he let go of your cheeks, leaving you to land on the couch. your glassy eyes followed him as he paced the room— eyes frantic, pupils blown; the obvious reasoning for his unreasonable reaction to you and your usual attire.

“the fuck am i gonna do with you?” he muttered, running a hand over his buzzed head. his eyes fell on the bottom drawer of the television cabinet, causing him to stop still while his glare fell back towards you. “c’mere” he ordered, voice low and raspy as his hand beckoned you over lazily.

eager to please him, you found yourself under rafe’s sadistic gaze once more. “rafe i’m—“

“do you trust me?” he interrupted, words harsh and laced with mixed emotion. you weren’t sure what he wanted to hear, especially not when he’s like this. opting for the obvious— you nodded eagerly, peering up at him, yet frowned as he stepped passed. you watched intently as his hand dipped into the drawer, pulling out a familiar piece of heavy metal. “knees, now”

doing as you’re told, you lowered yourself in front of him, as well as your gaze— ashamed of the wetness growing between your thighs. “you’re gonna show me jus’ how much you respect me” he smirked, turning round fully to present his idea.

peering up at him, you felt your core ache for it. it was wrong— so wrong in so many ways, and yet you wanted to completely surrender to him. pulling a plump lip between your teeth, you nodded— readjusting yourself in preparation.

“tha’s it— you want me to teach y’some respect kid?” he chuckled, feeling a complete lack of surprise at your willingness. “yes”

“yes what?” he sneered, toying with the gun. you watched as his slender fingers worked the metal so carelessly— fiddling with the safety. falling into such admiration, you almost didn’t realise the light slap that blushed it’s way across your cheek. “hey— speak when spoken to kid”

“i— yes, yes sir” you whimpered.

“y’shouldn’t trust me, y’know. who knows, might blow your pretty little brains out all over the rug” he hummed, dragging the barrel of the cool metal down your cheek, tauntingly. “open your mouth for me doll”

#ʚ♡ɞ ☁: elle’s dreams #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #obx #rafecameron #rafe obx

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comfortless · 1 month

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I already sent you an ask today so hiiii

(Alright so now I hopefully have your attention, imagine: ancient settling, mercenary könig is made prisoner and enslaved and reader, a cute noble girl, buys him to ☆have fun☆. He doesn't mind at all.)

Have a good day!

anon whoever you are… every message that you have sent has been like you putting a clawing animal in my brain. all of these concepts are so good. sorry it took me a bit to get around to this one. <:•)

captured mercenary! König x noblewoman! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. medieval au (so: gender role nonsense), slightly mean slightly pathetic König, very brief mentions of violence/beheading, masturbation.

“That one.”

You hear yourself speak without thought. Your voice is shy, almost. It’s unbecoming of your station to seem so meek… even as you eye the men lined up before you like cattle prepped for slaughter.

Prisoners, they were. All apart from the one you had chosen would be little more than toys for the executioner after what they’ve done: to think that such a little band of mercenaries would even be planning for a siege… ridiculous. Most of the men have already had their hair cut cleanly away from their necks in preparation for the blade that would be slicing past each vertebrae and layer of muscle to chop away their heads.

This one is saved only because he’s been stripped of his armors, and though his face is rather rugged… there’s strength beneath his skin and such a deep misery in his eyes it sets your chest ablaze with pity. He could be useful, a willing servant if you could only save him from what terrible thing haunts him.

Maybe it’s the old wounds that flare his skin with the raised flesh of scar tissue, perhaps it’s the harelip or the wild thing set between his thighs where he’s forced to kneel. It catches your eye, that last one…

The prisoner’s jaw sets when your finger does point his way, blue eyes narrow just a fraction as realization settles in the pit of his stomach. No freedom to be garnered here, no love, nothing but that blade he had intended to use against you sworn to you instead. If the giant spit at your feet then, it would be expected, welcomed almost with the way your chest roars with sympathy.

He only stares.

You pay off his captors with a few silver coins and watch as they lead him bound to your side. His arms are tied too tightly before him, muscles slack with exertion after trying to fight the ropes for what must have been hours. Whether he sees you as savior or something revolting remains unknown. He doesn’t speak, not even as a servant leads him into the back of your carriage and you step inside after him, holding up the middle of your gown as to not sully it with the dirt and old blood splattered over the stones layered for street.

When the horses begin to move you give the man a proper once over, hiding your smile beneath a handkerchief, free hand curled into the lap of your skirts. He’s not just tall and broad, but incredibly well endowed. Not just sad and downtrodden, but pissed, though the only tell remains his shaking fists. His gaze never meets yours for longer than a moment before it settles back to gaze at the passing tall grass and sheep prancing about the fields, but each time that it does… there is no denying the mixture of confusion, maybe even attraction upon his face.

Your home was something this giant had never had a taste of prior to you: a castle atop a hill, charming and stone with its high ramparts and blunt roof. You didn’t need his confirmation in words, though you do ask and get nothing in turn.

The carriage pulls you right through the gate and it is almost cute the way that this man’s eyes seem to wander as he takes it all in. There are other servants tending to the sheep and horses, the smell of fire and the chiming of blade meeting blade ringing out as men spar, there are cats to keep away pests and modest but cozy homes, a tavern, an inn all beyond the wall. A small city of your own: all for the perfect little noblewoman that you were.

The only thing that you lacked was the trained sword of a man to ensure your safety, and now you had that, too.

You explain to him his place here, the role that he would take for the price you paid as you both disembark from the wooden carriage. He would be fitted for armor donning your family’s crest come the morning, whipped into obedience should he dare raise a hand toward any one here. You even think to warn him of the executioner’s sloppy work, how he may even live with his head chopped only halfway off should you request it…. some horror you had heard one of the travelers speak of.

As the weeks pass, König does begin to settle immensely. His speech is disjointed and parsed, his mother tongue muddled with your own language in a way that is cute… terribly, horribly cute.

He’s intelligent and strong: spends much of his time out amongst the lower men aiding with the animals and teaching them the deft way he swings his blade. It is an art form in its own right, the way that he paints the air with swift strokes… For a woman to fawn over a man’s swordplay was absurd, but it was impossible not to enjoy when he taunts and jabs the way that he does.

He rarely wears that armor the blacksmith crafted for him, both a flattery and an insult. You don’t mind watching him best smaller men in solely his trousers, pressing their faces into the muck while he barks his insults to them in words they can not understand. To you, now, when he flashes the most beastly of grins in your direction and utters the words, “Verpiss dich.”

You aren’t even certain why you stand there rather than hissing out orders to have him taken away. Your stupid corset feels too tight, gown too small, and your chest aches. There's not been a thing you could do to have this man do more than simply tolerate you. He sleeps within his own room in the castle, eats his fill and then some, you talk to him and layer your words with praise. He has not once been punished for anything. Not even now.

“Come here,” you demand without thought, walking down the staircase to cross the yard with your hands balled into delicate fists at your sides.

Your giant only looks confused for a moment as he clambers off of the man he’s just wrestled to the earth and rights himself. His eyebrows raise, his nostrils flare… and then he laughs. At you like you’re the most puny of rabbits, hardly a threat. Your betters would have laughed too at just how fragile you sound, on the cusp of tears over what? Some ridiculous little crush on a captive soldier??

He eventually does as you ask, stomping over to stand before you- not kneel, he never knelt. If his height and stature were meant to intimidate… your god would have to forgive the thoughts that muddle your head then, like filthy water as you drink him in.

“Was…?”

So you explain to him as best you can just how insolent he’s being, how horribly he repays your kindness, how he would be dead on some shrouded mountain pass or have his body tossed into the river if not for you. You explain your heart out when tears come to your eyes and spring forth as your chittering continues, and you don’t even know if the moron can understand; he only stands there with the wildest grin on his face when he sees you beginning to sniffle and sob.

“Was?,” he demands again, blunt even as he takes your face into one of his large hands, turns your head to brush a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Why are you crying?”

“You need to learn your place!” And you know you’re being a hypocrite, that a proper lady should never allow a man to touch her like this, look at her the way that König does. You should call for a servant to have him dragged through the yard and whipped… or worse, but your voice only comes in a crestfallen whisper.

He shrugs those massive shoulders, rolls his neck and huffs a breath as he gazes down at you before his hand falls to his side and he merely walks away. That’s it.

Though you had the hopes that your warning had been taken seriously, the days following seem even worse.

König abandons his duties and takes up the most horrendous idea of courtship that he can muster. If courtship is even what it could be considered. It is more like a direct taunt, a jab now that he’s been made perfectly aware just how fragile the maiden he was sold to guard is.

He takes liberties once you’ve bedded down each night, your dresses stripped away to be replaced with a plain linen gown with nothing beneath: your only protection in the form of the wooden door between you two because König is no protector.

It always starts with the sound of spitting into his palm, then a drawn out sigh that rises to a near-animalistic groan. Sometimes he speaks, other times the soft, wet sounds rise in tempo until all that comes from his mouth are sharp hisses and whines.

This night proves to be the worst.

The wood creaks under his weight as he leans back against the door, stroking himself to the thought of you behind it. He makes it apparent when he breathes your name, low and shaky as you squeeze your eyes closed and pretend to not hear the words that follow.

“Scheiße… bet you’re tight,” he hisses between his depraved whimpers, the slick sounds increasing even as he rights himself to stand proper. You can almost hear the way he salivates, can almost imagine the way his jaw must fall slack and his eyes go dazed as he pleasures himself… you squeeze your thighs shut.

“Ja… you want it too, huh…” The bastard is most assuredly imagining you, knelt before him with the most helpless, reverent gaze as you plead for him. It should make you ill, yet it only stokes a fire in your belly, one that bridges between rage and need. “Ich will dich ficken…”

Your breath comes to a halt when your hand drifts beneath your thin gown, forcing yourself to listen as he brings himself to ruin in the halls as your finger presses to the spot that demands attention most of all. A fragile, shaking circle before your breath already begins to catch.

“Bitte…”

The brute sounds so helpless now, no longer the horrid thing that ordered you to “piss off” or scowled in your direction. He doesn’t know a thing about love… about how one should yearn for a maiden, only of spilling blood and seed. It’s only in the quiet of the night when the rest of the castle sleeps does he allow himself to be even this vulnerable… only his vulnerability seems even more terrifying.

His groans morph into pitiful sighs as he no doubt slows his motions, drawing out an impending orgasm in the hope that you will crawl to your door to let him in and fuck you rough on your bed.

“Just let me…”

Your thighs tremble as you weep between them in longing. The sooner it’s over the sooner you can close your eyes and drift back to sleep, no longer needing him the way he seems to need you now.

Your motions grow more heady, the patterns traced quicker and more deliberate as the heat rushes down further like the most vast wave of pure fire… When you tense, when your lips part to allow a low murmur of pleasure to slip from them, you’re met with laughter from the other side of the door.

“Ja… my lady… you do want it,” he hums as you draw your covers up and over your head in shame. You hadn’t been that loud, surely… but the way that he follows after, coming undone himself with a loud grunt as though it were some ridiculous competition…

“Let me fuck you next time,” he rasps, panting soft as he leans back. Depraved as he was, you were certain he was probably admiring the pearly paint he left along the stones. “That is my place, hm?”

#könig x reader #konig x reader

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zeevawyte · 3 months

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Ok so, this is so far outside my usual stuff it’s insane, but this literally won't leave my brain and I don't know if I have time to write it so-

RadioApple fic idea under the cut:

TW: blood, mentions of cannibalism (it's Alastor, duh), semi-unsafe dom/sub (no actual sex), sub drops

Starts out your normal "stop interfering with my relationship with my daughter & you can have a snack whenever you want" kinda deal, with Alastor taking full advantage of the fact that he's got the most powerful being in hell at his mercy. Dude has a serious power trip the first time, & between that and the taste is hooked immediately.

And of course Luci isn't exactly complaining. Other than the occasional jumpscare via shadow, it hasn't been too bad. Kind of enjoyable actually, not that he'd ever admit that to the demon's face. And it's not like he hasn't been tied up or held down before either.

But then during one of their ‘meetings’ he ends up going into sub space on accident… and it keeps happening.

This wouldn't be a problem except Alastor (for obvious reasons) has literally zero information/knowledge about that sort of thing. And, being the dramatic asshole that he is, enjoys getting the last word and leaving without a backwards glance. Which means he's not there when Luci drops.

Hard.

But it's fine! He's fine! He's the King of Hell, he doesn't need some sinner to help him deal with the consequences of an arrangement he proposed in the first place. He's totally fine on his own.

Except he's not.

He is very much not fine, and it starts to show. It gets so bad that one day Charlie actually asks him if he’s ok mid-conversation.

Enter Angel Dust.

Now, by this point Angel’s like 98% sure the two powerhouses are going at it. Alastor has been in a good mood for months now (coinciding suspiciously with the two of them not being at each other’s throats all the time - at least in public) & he’s seen Luci coming out of a room straightening his coat and hat on one of the upper floors. Not to mention the down-right flirty undertones to any barbs they shoot back and forth.

Husk agrees that something is going on but heavily doubts it’s what Angel thinks.

Determined to prove that he’s right, Angel starts wandering the upper floors or heading up just as Alastor heads down (subtly, he’s not an idiot). Anyway, he’s up there one day being nosy when he hears a crash from one of the rooms. He goes in only to find Lucifer on the floor, having tripped over a side table and knocked over a lamp, disheveled and absolutely shaking.

He recognizes what’s happening almost immediately (fuck you very much Val) and gathers the little king up onto the couch, helping him calm down until he doesn’t look like he’s going to either spontaneously start sobbing or throw up on the rug.

Luci is understandably embarrassed and tries to offer him a favor for his help, but Angel waves him off saying he’s been there & that Luci doesn’t owe him anything.

The next day when Lucifer is off doing something else, Angel grabs Alastor and all but drags him into a side room.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you and short king, and frankly it’s none’a my business-”

“No, it isn’t. And if that really is all you wanted to speak with me about-”

“Shut up! I’m not jokin’ alright? I’m bein’ 100% serious. You’re fucking up big time, and I’m pretty sure you don’t even know it. So if you don’t want this whole thing to end in a big fuckin’ mess you need to listen to me.”

Cue a hilariously awkward conversation where an unusually serious Angel explains dom/sub dynamics and the effects/consequences therein to an incredibly-uncomfortable-but-desperately-not-showing-it Alastor.

It ends with something along the lines of

"And look, I don't know if you actually care about the guy or if it’s just about gettin’ your kicks, but honestly? It doesn't matter. You've got your whole gentleman thing right? Openin' doors for the ladies and shit?" *pokes him in the chest* "Well as a gentleman, you've dropped the fuckin' ball. Only self-centered dicks leave their sub to drop alone."

Now if there’s one thing Alastor will not abide, it’s a loss of manners. Being told he’s been unknowingly committing a social faux pas gets under his skin immediately. It itches at him. To the point that his smile almost slips. More than once.

He needs to fix it. As soon as possible.

He’s visibly twitchy the rest of the day.

Husk corners Angel to ask what the hell he said to Al, but only gets a vague, noncommittal answer about letting him know about some information he was missing.

And the next time he and Lucifer have a ‘meeting,’ Alastor stays.

#radioapple #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #alastor #fanfic #fic ideas #had to get this OUT OF MY BRAIN #so here #have a thing

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steddiealltheway · 1 year

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Some College AU

It’s about an hour after what Eddie is now naming “The Incident” when he storms into Nancy’s room. He glances down to the left where Nancy's roommate leaves her red converse - announcing she’s in the room. But right now, they're gone and only Nancy's shoes are in the spot. So, Eddie flops down on the plush rug in the center of the room and covers his eyes with his hands.

“Nancy, I fucked up. It was so embarrassing,” Eddie sighs and hears the telltale click of a laptop shutting from above him. She must be in her lofted bed, but it doesn’t matter because he needs to rant. “You know, maybe I should go ahead and drop out and save myself the embarrassment of once again running into the human embodiment of every single wet dream I’ve ever had.”

There’s a slight gasp that Eddie knows is Nancy’s “Eddie we’ve been friends forever, but there are just some things I do not need to know about you” gasp. But it’s not her turn to talk. In fact, she’s the exact reason he’s in this predicament because without her convincing him to apply to the same college and actually go with her, then he would never be here.

Eddie groans and rolls over onto his stomach burying his face in the rug. He points up behind him gesturing vaguely towards where Nancy is sitting and says, “This is all your fault, but thank you for always shampooing your carpet it smells nice.” It comes out more as a muffled mess, so Eddie sighs and turns his head to the side.

“But anyways. I had my damn intro to economics class, and please tell me why we have to take foundation courses later because I think it’s the stupidest thing on this planet except for me at the moment. Because before that class a beautiful, kind man had to clean chocolate milk out of his sweater because of me. And this is exactly why I will never show my face in the dining hall again or anywhere on campus, so I will never run into that perfect man again. End of story.” Eddie finishes his rant, knowing he’s going to say more because he still feels like a stupid idiot. Because yes, spilling a drink on someone is bad, but that’s just clumsiness and nerves and that’s forgivable. But when Adonis himself is target of said drink, and the drink is goddamn chocolate milk… that’s unforgivable.

Eddie groans and rolls onto his back to stare up at Nancy who will likely have her head poked over the side of her bed with that flat look of “are you done yet?” solely expressed through a tight smile. Only, Nancy isn’t peaking over the side of her bed. But out of the corner of his eye, he spots someone else glancing over the edge of Nancy’s roommate’s lofted bed.

Holy shit. It’s hot dining hall man. “Fuck shit fuck damnit,” Eddie eloquently says, scrambling to get up and immediately backing up into Nancy’s desk. “What the fuck?” Eddie heaves out. He’s died, and gone to his own personal Hell, that’s the only explanation for it.

“I’ve never been called beautiful before,” the man says with a big smile, cheeks slightly pink, and holy shit he’s so beautiful. Maybe Eddie has died and gone to his own personal heaven. Then the man is climbing down the ladder and giving Eddie the view of his life before he’s right in his space. “I’m Steve,” he says, holding his hand out.

Eddie automatically takes it and wills any part of his brain to work but it’s all been turned to goo as he shakes his hand. “What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, and he thanks himself for at least somehow reacting although he sounds pretty breathless.

“Robin’s my best friend. I'm just waiting for her to get back, but I think her and Nancy went out to get groceries or something. But it’s nice to formally meet you…” Steve trails off, and Eddie notices he’s still holding his hand with his very clammy one.

“Eddie,” he supplies when he realizes what Steve is prompting. Gosh he has such nice lips... and eyes… and hair… and a really nice nose honestly and… Eddie stops when he realizes he’s blatantly checking the man out once again. “Shit,” Eddie mumbles under his breath and takes his hand back.

“I’ve also never been called the human embodiment of someone’s wet dreams before,” Steve says. Oh shit. He’s really going to bring that up and not move past it. Eddie sighs, and prepares to apologize when he notices… Steve is smiling. An overwhelmingly charming type of smile as if he was flirting.

Eddie opens his mouth and says the first thing that comes to mind, “I spilt my chocolate milk on you.” He cringes. Okay, thinking before speaking is something else he needs to work on this semester. Got it.

“You did,” Steve says with an amused smile. He points to his shirt. “Changed and everything. Plus, the other sweater is fine, and it was too warm to wear today anyways.”

That is an absolute lie because it’s freezing outside. But Eddie doesn’t call him out on it. Instead he says, “Blue is a nice color on you. In the color way, not the… depressed way. Jesus H. Christ.” Eddie pauses, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. He opens them and with a wide smile he says, “Hell of a way to make a first impression.”

“I’ve noticed you around before,” Steve admits as if it were no big deal although their campus is fairly large, and Eddie had somehow never seen him before today, so he has no idea how that was possible.

“How have I never noticed you before?” Eddie asks honestly but takes pride in the way it makes Steve’s face flush. “Maybe you can make it up to me - all that lost time when my eyes were not graced by your beauty.” Yeah, he's still got it.

Steve laughs pleasantly and looks away somewhat bashfully, but he quickly recovers and leans into Eddie space. “Just tell me how to make it up to you, and I’ll do it.”

Eddie swallows. Oh, this is dangerous. He is dangerous. And Eddie knows exactly what he’s going to request first-

The door opens, and Eddie and Steve’s heads snap to the side. Nancy walks in and freezes.

“What’s wrong Nance? Why did you-” Robin walks in and also freezes. She takes a second to recover before she cracks a big smile and nudges Nancy. "You owe me ten bucks."

Nancy sighs and sets her grocery bags down then digs through her purse emerging with ten dollars which she hands to Robin. What the hell?

"What's that about?" Steve asks, not taking a step out of Eddie's personal space, but he's really not complaining.

"Robin bet ten bucks that you two would somehow meet and hit it off before we could introduce you guys," Nancy says then turns and smacks Robin on the arm. "You planned this didn't you?"

Robin puts her hands up. "I had no idea Steve or Eddie were coming over. Not my fault that we gave them copies of our keys."

"They're for emergency use only though," Nancy says then turns an accusatory finger at the boys. "What was your emergency?"

Eddie catches a quick glance at Steve. They both know what Eddie's "emergency" was, but Steve looks a bit reluctant to admit his. A quick glance towards Nancy, and Eddie is immediately spilling out the truth, "I ran into a hot guy in the dining hall and spilled chocolate milk all over him and needed to rant."

Nancy looks disappointed but satisfied in the answer, so she turns to Steve expectantly. Steve shoots Eddie a quick glance and runs a hand through his hair. He gives in and admits, "A cute guy spilled chocolate milk on me, and I wanted to talk about it..."

Eddie gapes at Steve. There's no way. There's absolutely no way this gorgeous man was there for that reason. Holy shit. Steve turns to Eddie and softly smiles at him, and Eddie absolutely melts at the sight.

Robin laughs, "Nancy, you owe me twenty bucks." And bless Nancy, she reaches into her purse and hands Robin ten more dollars as Eddie and Steve continue to stare at each other.

Maybe going to college was the best thing Nancy has ever convinced Eddie to do.

I currently have about zero time to be writing stuff, but I missed you all and missed getting to write steddie content, so I'm just glad to get something down.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie and nancy #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steddie ficlet

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evansbby · 1 year

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𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐭 (𝒑𝒐𝒚𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: spanking, daddy kink, a/b/o dynamics, misogyny, light fingering, biting, gaslighting, manipulation, animalistic behaviour lmao, 18+, minors dni

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve teaches you a lesson you’ll never forget.

𝗔/𝗡: This is a POYT drabble featuring Steve and his omega! Enjoy!

“Omega, baby, come here.”

Steve’s voice is stern, despite the pet name. You freeze from where you’re sat, hunched over your boyfriend’s desk where you’ve got a mountain of homework in front of you. You’d been buried up to your nose in textbooks and notes when he’d come home, and all he’d done was sit and watch you for the past ten minutes.

You immediately get up and make your way over to where he’s sat on the edge of his bed. Pointedly, he pats his thigh and you take a seat on his lap.

“What have I told you about what good omegas should do when their alphas come home?” There’s a dangerous edge to his tone as he casually pushes the fabric of your top aside and fingers your bra strap, snapping it against your skin and making you yelp.

“Good omegas greet their alphas at the door with a hug and kiss.” You recite before looking up at him pleadingly (although not for long because he’s scary and you can’t maintain eye contact for long). “B-But Steve, I was doing homework. I got d-distracted, I’m sorry.”

“Mm, see this is why omegas shouldn’t concern themselves with getting degrees.” Steve muses, stroking your hair casually whilst you sit in his lap, rigid as a statue and your heart beating like crazy. “So busy with schoolwork that you forgot your duty as an omega.”

“I’m sorry.” You bow your head in shame. You can feel the disappointment radiating off of him in waves, and it’s having a major effect on you, as usual.

“I’ve been at home ten minutes now and all you did was smile at me and say hey before going back to your work. When really, you should’ve greeted me with the proper respect befitting of an alpha. I thought you knew better, omega.” Steve shakes his head, twirling a strand of your hair on his finger before giving it a harsh tug.

“I should’ve known better, Steve. But there was a lot of work, you see, and—” There’s a part of you that finds it silly, because you have every right to do your homework. And it’s not like you’d ignored him! But the omega part of you burns with shame because you’ve let him down.

“Shut up.” Steve says calmly and you immediately bow your head again, only to look up when he gives your ass a harsh pinch. “Well? What are you waiting for? Give your alpha a welcome home kiss.”

Heart pitter-pattering, you angle up and tip your head back, pecking his warm lips softly. And it feels so nice, a large part of you just wants to continue kissing, just melt into him and feel his arms around you. Just make out with him forever because it gives you butterflies and he’s such a good kisser.

But Steve doesn’t kiss you back, and you’re too shy to initiate anything. So you pull back and duck your head. The alpha energy exuding from him is making you feel heady and extra submissive, so all you can think to do now is stay put and wait till he gives you permission to go back to your schoolwork.

But the glint in Steve’s eye shows that he has other plans.

“Stand up.” He commands you softly and you do as he says, standing between his legs with the rug soft against your bare feet. “Pull your leggings down. Panties too.”

You blink. He wanted to have sex? Well, that wasn’t surprising since Steve always wanted sex. It didn’t matter where you were, what time it was or what mood he was in.

You do as you’re told, feeling the cool air against your bare legs as you strip. It’s strange though, usually Steve takes your clothes off for you (something about how it’s an Alpha’s job to undress his omega). You wonder why this time is different—

“Bend over my lap.”

You blink before realisation seeps through your brain, and you see his hand flexing and waiting by his side. Oh no. He couldn’t possibly be wanting to spank you, could he??

Instinctively, you shake your head. “S-Steve, please, I said I was sorry! Please! I won’t do it again!” You desperately think of all the ways you can make it up to him. Cook him his favourite dinner and dessert? And maybe a big breakfast spread tomorrow? You had an assignment due the next day but you could ask for an extension if it meant keeping your alpha happy.

But Steve’s handsome features remain stoic. “Get over my knee, omega. And if you make me repeat myself one more time, there’ll be hell to pay for you.”

You find yourself over his knee and face to face with the bedsheets, quivering in his arms as he lifts your oversized t shirt up. You suck in your breath when you feel the expanse of his hand stroking your ass.

“I’m punishing you because you deserve it.” His voice is deathly calm and it frightens you. “And maybe after this is over, you’ll learn to be a good omega and get your priorities straight.”

Never in your life had you been spanked before. Sure, Steve liked to slap your ass all the time; during sex or even casually in public. But this was different, being bent over the knee of your alpha like you were some kind of chastised child, your body stripped away of any sort of autonomy as it surrenders to him.

“I’ll be nice to you, since you’re a baby and it’s your first ever spanking after all.” Steve smirks, hand still stroking and squeezing your ass, “I’ll only give you ten smacks, although you deserve more than double that amount for forgetting to greet me. But I’m not heartless, so you better thank me for being nice.”

You sniff, feeling like a child who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar — despite the fact that your offence wasn’t even that bad! But you feel so submissive, so you nod sadly and give in to your fate. “Th-Thank you for being nice.”

SMACK.

His hand cracks down on your bare ass, hard as a whip and you cry out in shock and pain. That hurt! But Steve is unperturbed by your pain, giving your searing ass cheek a rough squeeze. “That was for not addressing me properly.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “I’m sorry…Thank you for being nice, daddy.”

Steve sighs, leisurely stroking your ass while you lay over his knee with bated breath, never knowing when the next blow will happen. “God, you have such a pretty baby ass.” He grabs one cheek lewdly and gives it a jiggle, “So cute and round, practically begging for a smack.”

He’s taking his sweet time, and it’s too intense, and you can’t help but look up at him pleadingly, “S-Steve, please, I said I was sor—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Steve says sharply, pinching your butt meanly, and you cry out in pain. “You’re not making this any easier for yourself, omega. I know you’re a dumb little baby who’s scared but that doesn’t mean you get to skip out on punishments. Keep your eyes on the floor, and if you look up at me again, I swear I’ll use my belt.”

The threat has your heart racing and palms sweating, and you look back down as Steve resumes playing with your ass. His expert fingers know exactly how to touch you, stroke your skin, pinch and prod you till you’re panting and trying to squeeze your thighs together. You’re still scared but you can’t help but feel your wetness seeping down your legs (and onto his thigh).

SMACK.

His palm collides with your ass harder than the first time, and you cry out, fisting the bedsheets and biting your lip.

“Count for me, baby.” He commands you, “and thank me after each one.”

“O-One.” You cry softly. “Thank you, d-daddy.”

SMACK.

Another hard blow, and you swallow harshly because it hurts already and you still have eight more to go, and you can’t help but sob, “Two. Thank you, daddy.”

“Aww, crying already, baby?” Steve coos, stroking your burning ass. “And just remember, I’m going easy on you. Next time you slip up, it’ll be the paddle or my belt.”

The punishment continues, smack after smack cracking down on your ass till you’re writhing in pain, crying as the tears flow freely down your face, and Steve has to use his other leg to pin you down and keep you in place as the burning pain is proving too much to handle.

“Gonna bruise your little ass up real good, omega.” He promises you, voice deep with lust. You can feel his dick, angry and hard through his jeans, poking up against your stomach.

“Fuck, you don’t even know how bad I’ve been wanting to teach you a lesson like this.” He gives your ass cheek another jiggle, squeezing it hard as if it’s a toy. “Before I’d claimed you, when I’d see you walking around, bending over to pick something up, your cute little ass poking out for everyone to see.”

SMACK. This slap is harder than ever, and you sob as you count and thank him, barely getting the words out as Steve grows more and more excited.

“And everyone would fucking stare at you.” He continues darkly, stopping his assault and instead stroking the sizzling skin of your backside, getting dangerously close to your slippery core.

“And like the dumb omega you are, you never even noticed. Fuck, I should’ve pulled you aside and fucking smacked your ass raw right there in the middle of campus, in front of all of them. Maybe then they’d have realised you were never a free piece of ass to begin with.”

SMACK.

You cry and cry as he has his way with you, his palm colliding with your sensitive ass over and over again. And the force of each smack has your clit — all puffed up and engorged — rub deliciously against the material of his jeans. The rough denim creates friction against your bundle of nerves, mixing a dangerous cocktail of burning pain and pleasure within you as your cream leaks down his leg.

“Tell me who this little baby ass belongs to, omega.” Steve orders you between smacks.

“You!”

“Say it again. Louder. Tell me exactly who owns your sweet little ass.”

“Daddy! You own my ass, you own it!” You sob, hoping it’ll be over because you’ve counted more then ten smacks now. In fact, you’ve lost count.

But Steve is still incensed, raining smack after smack down on your poor rear end — even though he’d promised only ten! But you can’t argue with him, can’t protest. All you can do is cry and take the assault.

“Damn right. You’re my fucking omega and that means I can beat your little ass whenever the fuck I want, you hear me? And you’re just a weak little baby, so just shut the fuck up and take it.”

He alternates between both your ass cheeks, landing blow after blow before coming to a sudden stop. You sniffle, the tears blurring your vision and the pain mixed with the desire between your legs making you heady. Steve spreads your ass cheeks slowly, pressing a probing finger against your puckered hole.

You gasp, the unfamiliar feeling of his finger there sending sparks down to your core. But all he does is trail downwards, dangerously close to your pussy which throbs with need.

“P-Please.” You garble through your tears, earning another hefty slap.

Steve leisurely swirls his finger through your dripping wet folds, gathering your sticky cream and spreading up on your burning ass.

“Wet from a spanking.” He whistles lowly, “how slutty can you get, omega? Does getting hit make you horny? Huh?” He gives you another hard slap, “I asked you a question, baby. Does getting spanked make your little pussy wet?”

“Yes!” You sob, “Steve! Daddy, please!” And you don’t even know what you’re begging for. For him to stop spanking you? For him to touch you down there? You don’t know, but you just feel so needy, all the sensations clouding your judgement as Steve’s attention goes back to your ass.

“I’m not even close to done with you.” Steve murmurs before licking his palm and cracking down on your poor ass cheek once more, the sound reverberating off the walls as you cry in pain. “I’ll make sure you can’t sit straight for a week, baby. Maybe that’ll teach you to be the dutiful little omega you were always meant to be.”

SMACK.

Your rear end feels fiery and numb at the same time, Steve’s onslaught never-ending as he alternates between smacks and pinches. Your flesh feels sore and abused, and Steve’s boner only grows harder underneath you.

“Mine. All fucking mine.” Steve growls, his blows growing more animalistic. And then, with a rumble from his chest, he leans down over you. And before you know what’s happening, you howl in pain when you feel his teeth clamp down on the sizzling flesh of your ass, biting down hard as if your ass is a piece of meat.

His bite is so hard, so animalistic, that you know he’s drawn blood. And you know it’ll leave a mark on the sensitive skin of your backside. But he doesn’t care, clamping down hard while his strong arms hold you in place. And when he finally detaches his teeth from your skin, he licks it all up. Licking stripes up and down your ass, practically devouring it as if it’s a toy for him to use and abuse how he pleases.

“Mine.” Steve whispers against your fiery hot flesh, ignoring your cries as he nuzzles his face against your ass, teeth grazing against the sizzling, broken skin as if he’s tempted to bite you again. As if he’s been taken over by some kind of wild beast inside him, one that wants to claim you in the rawest, most animalistic way possible. Instead, he licks and sucks and nips at your flesh, “Don’t you fucking disrespect me like that again, baby. I can do so much more damage than this.”

SMACK.

The final blow is harder than any of the ones before it, like the crack of a whip on your backside, leaving you crying harder than ever before.

And then he jolts you upwards so you’re sat on his knee, and the contact between your ass and the rough denim has you sobbing and sobbing in pain, feeling all sorts of vulnerable and submissive and scared.

“Y-You said… Y-You said only ten!” You sob in his arms. Your ass is on fire and you feel like he’d smacked you about thirty times at least.

“I know, baby.” Steve sounds surprisingly gentle but you can hear the smirk in his voice. “But as your alpha, I need to have a firm hand. And I knew you wouldn’t learn your lesson with just ten spanks. Daddy knows what’s best for you, baby. And don’t you have anything to say to me now?”

“I’m s-s-sorry, I’m so s-sorry!” You burst out, only wanting his approval. It’s like his spanking has broken something inside you, making you feel like you need his approval and forgiveness or else you’ll die. “W-Won’t do it again, daddy, I pr-promise.”

Steve smiles as he smooths your hair back, before casually gathering your tears on his finger when he strokes your cheeks. “You better hope you don’t do it again. Next time I come home, I expect you to greet me at the door, you got that?”

You nod desperately through your tears, heart thudding in your chest when finally, Steve hugs you close, giving your tear-stained cheek a soft kiss while he holds you and allows you to sob into his chest, repeating the words ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again.

“And look, you’ve made a huge mess on my jeans.” Steve tsks, and he’s got a glint in his eye as he surveys the huge wet spot on his thigh. You duck your head in shame, burying your face in his shoulder because you feel all small and vulnerable and afraid. “I should take you over my knee again, baby, for making such a mess.”

“Please no!” You sob quietly, wanting to be held and hugged by him but too shy and distraught and in pain to ever voice this desire. “ ‘m sorry, Steve. D-Didn’t mean to, it just happened.”

Steve continues to stroke your head as if you’re his little pet, pressing kisses on your hairline while his arms hug you tightly. And you know he’s the reason your ass is on fire right now, but it’s still this gentle touch from him that you crave. You feel so especially needy, wanting to cling to him like a koala.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling nice today, omega.” He tells you, standing up and picking you up along with him. “Now tell me, do you want to go back to studying?”

You glance back at your textbooks, strewn open and dejected on his desk, before immediately shaking your head, burying your face into his chest once more and holding onto him tightly. Your brain feels scrambled and disoriented, your ass feels numb with pain, and the omega inside you is crying to stay in your alpha’s arms. Studying would have to wait.

Steve smiles, the wicked glint in his eyes still present. “That’s my good girl. Always remember that I come first.” He presses his lips against yours and you welcome the kiss, desperately kissing him back and clutching his sweater as he holds you close.

“I’ll run us a bath, baby. See, daddy has to discipline you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be nice too.”

A/N: SKDJSKSKSKA IDEK YALL!!! WHAT DO U THINK ???

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #chris evans #chris evans x reader #poyt drabble

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 4 months

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Unpredictable, Part 7-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic

A/N: Thanks for your patience with this next part. Please let me know what you think!

Warnings: some sensuality, sexual references, and swearing

Words: 4.3k

Taglist: @badbishsblog, @gardenof-venus, @darksoul100

Series Masterlist

The first thing I noticed was a pair of voices. One was deeper while the other was higher pitched. I could not see anything or make any sense of what they were saying. It was like I was in a sensory deprivation tank, and I was just…floating.

How had I gotten there? How did I get out of there?

When I tried to move my arms, they wouldn’t move. It was the same with the rest of my body. I tried to open my mouth to ask for help but it was like my lips were glued together. My body began to tingle, and I could feel the panic begin to rise from the pit of my stomach.

Please…someone…help me.

Then, one of the voices got closer to me. “Y/N…Y/N, wake up! Come on, Y/N!”

I knew that voice…it was Andre. Then, I felt a strong pair of hands on my shoulders shaking them. The jostling made me want to flinch but instead, my eyes finally flew open, and Andre stared back at me. My eyes scanned the area for a second and my shoulders slumped, and the panic dissipated when I recognized we were in Cate’s dorm.

“What…happened?” I asked slowly.

Andre sighed. “Cate said you passed out.”

“I did?”

I glanced over at Cate, who was standing a few feet away. She hugged her stomach and smiled tightly.

“Yeah, I think the strain I gave you was too strong,” she explained.

At her words, the image of us sitting on her rug and laughing as we passed her bong flooded my memory. But, there was something off about it and I couldn’t explain why. All I knew was that I never passed out after smoking with any of my friends. Maybe there was a first time for everything?

“Oh,” I muttered.

Andre helped me to my feet. “So, how’s the investigation going?”

“Investigation?” I repeated.

Andre frowned. “Yeah, about our memories and what the hell happened at Dusty’s.”

It was like a lightbulb went off in my head and I remembered that we all had two days of our memories wiped. I vaguely remembered talking to Jordan and Marie about it, but I had a nagging feeling that we also talked about something else. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember it.

So, I told Andre what I knew, and he nodded as he processed.

Cate slowly approached us. “That’s why you came here, Y/N. You were stressed because you figured out who it was and didn’t know your next move.”

Immediately, an image of me pacing in Cate’s dorm while she actively listened flooded my brain. There was something off about that memory too but, maybe I was thinking too much.

“Oh.”

Andre’s eyes lit up. “You figured out who it was? Give me that name so I can handle that son of a bitch now.”

I remembered figuring it out and I remembered feeling conflicted about it. But, when I thought about who had done it, my brain felt fuzzy.

“It was Rufus, Y/N figured out it was Rufus and was nervous about how to approach because of my history with him,” Cate interjected.

Something shifted in Andre’s eyes as he faced Cate. Suddenly, I wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

“After that, he had the nerve to screw with all of us?” Andre seethed.

Cate nodded, eyes watering slightly. “That’s why Y/N was so scared, and I thought smoking would help. We also talked about her feelings about other things and right when it got resolved, she passed out.”

Even though her voice was strained, she rattled off everything confidently. There had to be something wrong with my head because I did remember opening up to her about Jordan and Marie, but I didn’t remember smoking or discussing Rufus. But, since Cate was the most sober out of the two of us, she had to be right.

Andre turned to me. “So, you’ve figured yourself out?”

My face warmed and I started shifting my weight from foot to foot. “I guess.”

While knowing how I felt about both Marie and Jordan was liberating in one way, the thought of telling either of them was terrifying. I didn’t know how I wanted things to work out either and going into that kind of conversation without a plan was daunting.

“At least something good came out of this. Do you know where Rufus is?” Andre asked.

“He’s at Dusty’s.”

My mouth moved quicker than my brain and part of me wondered where that came from. However, neither Andre nor Cate questioned it as they hurried out of the dorm, and I trailed after them.

Andre was a force to be reckoned with as he stormed into Dusty’s place with Cate and me right behind him. If looks could kill, anyone he made eye contact with would be in serious danger. He charged into the living room, interrupting whatever conversation Rufus was having with Marie and Jordan.

“Andre, what are you doing here?” Marie asked.

“I’m here for him,” Andre growled, glaring at Rufus. “He’s the one who messed with our heads.”

Andre started to charge Rufus but Jordan stood between them and Marie was at his side.

“What? No. Didn’t you tell him, Y/N?” Marie asked.

“Tell him what?” I replied.

“About how Rufus couldn’t have done this. We only came back here to try to get some more answers out of him but he keeps repeating himself,” Marie explained.

“He sounds so pathetic, I kind of believe him,” Jordan added.

Her words sounded familiar, but I was lost; it was like she was speaking another language and quizzing me on it. At the same time, though, I felt something in the back of my head, almost like a key turning.

“What are you talking about? Y/N’s the one who figured out it was him. She just told me,” Andre bit.

“And she’s never wrong,” Cate added.

I shook my head. “Why would I tell Marie and Jordan one thing and you two something else?”

“Maybe you were confused?” Cate suggested.

“Can someone just keep him away from me?” Rufus wailed from his cowering position on the couch.

“The more you talk, the harder I’m gonna beat your ass into the ground.” Andre tried to rush forward but Jordan easily held him back.

“Breathe, Andre.” Jordan’s voice was even but even they must have understood that an angry Andre was going to be tough to talk down.

Marie stepped away from Jordan and walked closer to me, a slight frown on her face. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing…I…I don’t know. I’m just---”

The ringing pain in my head cut me off and I yelped as I grabbed my forehead.

“Y/N!” Marie carefully grabbed my shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” Cate asked.

But I couldn’t respond, the pain was almost mind-numbingly bad. However, the fuzzy and clear thoughts continued to battle in my brain, knocking into walls I didn’t know were there. I didn’t know how much time had passed but when it was over, all I could do was slowly look at Cate.

“You,” I whispered.

“What?” Cate replied.

“You…did this. I don’t know how I figured it out, but I know you did this.”

As I backed away from her, I realized that Marie’s hands were still on my shoulders, and it was like she was pulling me away from her. A new kind of tension took over the room as Andre straightened up and glanced at me.

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” Andre asked.

“She’s confused,” Cate insisted.

I shook my head. “I’m a little fuzzy but I have this weird feeling I wasn’t always like this. I have a feeling that I wasn’t in your dorm to smoke because I was afraid of Rufus or the other stuff we talked about; I figured it out.”

The silence in the space made me hyper-aware of everything; Andre was much more relaxed compared to when we came in and his eyes darted between Cate and me; Jordan strode towards Marie and I; Marie’s grip on my shoulders tightened; and Cate stared at us, eyes practically begging.

“That makes a lot of sense; you’re smart enough to pull something like this off and we wouldn’t have noticed if you touched us,” Jordan observed.

“Come on, why would I do something like that?” Cate challenged.

“I don’t know but I do know that Y/N doesn’t lie,” Andre affirmed.

I had never seen Cate backed into a corner. She was always so articulate and quick-witted that she could get out of everything. It was strange watching her squirm and I couldn’t help but coil away from her in anxiety of what she would do in such a new position.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times. Then, she looked at her boots for a while. After a few moments, she hiccupped and her shoulders shook.

“Why did you push us, Cate?” I whispered.

Cate looked up at me, tears running down her face. “I just wanted everyone to be happy.”

“Happy? You thought making us lose our memories would make us happy?” Andre spat.

“I can explain,” Cate insisted.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Andre muttered.

“I do,” Marie stated. “I want to know exactly what made you do this to us.”

“After she gives us back our memories,” Jordan insisted.

Cate agreed and I texted Emma to come to Dusty’s so she could recover her memories.

For a second, I thought that recovering my memories would be painful and overwhelming, but it wasn’t. It was like a montage of everything that had happened. All the smells, touches, and feelings were unfamiliar but comforting at the same time.

When Cate let go of my face, I backed away from her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

I couldn’t answer her. Instead, I glanced at Jordan and Marie, who both looked sheepish since they had gotten their memories back before me. Knowing exactly what happened that night added a whole new fun layer to the conversations I knew I would have to have with both of them.

Emma, who was standing next to me, playfully nudged me and wiggled her eyebrows. “I expect all the dirty details later.”

I playfully shooed her and stepped aside so that she could get her memories. Andre was standing on the other side of the room, stewing. He was the first to get his memories back and he’d been sitting like that since.

“Wow,” Emma exclaimed when Cate finished.

“That’s everything,” Cate muttered.

Emma gave her the dirtiest look possible and called her something that made me flinch. “I’m gonna go find Sam.”

She rushed out of Dusty’s, leaving the five of us in the living room. Cate looked at us helplessly and I felt something hard in my chest.

“You can explain now,” Marie encouraged.

Cate sighed. “Shetty said that you all needed to forget about the Woods; that it was too dangerous. She said that I’d be protecting you.”

“Wait, Shetty put you up to this?” I asked.

“She asked me to do this; she said that I would be helping you!” Cate insisted. “She said that Sam was too dangerous for any of us to get close to and I was trying to protect you----you saw what he did at Dr. Cordova’s!”

“That’s not a reason to mess with our heads, Cate,” Andre scowled.

“You could have talked to us; we could’ve figured something out,” Jordan mentioned.

“I’m so sorry,” Cate whispered.

Andre shook his head. “I’m done.”

He stormed off and Marie wandered after him. Cate’s eyes bored into the side of my head, and I forced myself to look at her.

“Y/N…”

“I…I need some water,” I mumbled.

My feet carried me to Dusty’s filthy kitchen and I started searching everywhere for some water. Suddenly, I was parched, and as my vision got blurry, I understood why. Then, I started focusing on my surroundings.

“I see five empty beer cans, I smell four different strange smells, I am touching two cabinet doors, and,” I paused at the heavy footfalls, “I hear one pair of footsteps.”

Jordan looked down at me for a second and I couldn’t read their expression as they handed me a water bottle. I backed away from the cabinets and accepted it.

“Thanks,” I said.

The water was a relief and I sighed when I finished gulping.

“So,” Jordan started.

“So…”

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

I laughed humorlessly. “Exhausted is the only thing I can think of. I feel like my brain was the ball in a game of ping pong.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Jordan glanced at his hands. “Yeah but, I still feel shitty about everything.” “Everything?”

Jordan’s eyes snapped up to meet mine and he almost looked panicked. “No, shit, I didn’t mean last night; I mean with Cate messing with us but especially you.”

I hesitated and fumbled with the water bottle cap. “Oh.”

“Yeah, you should’ve seen yourself earlier; you looked lost and confused and I hate seeing you like that,” he rambled.

Despite the reminder, Jordan’s words made me feel giddy inside and I tried to keep the smile off my face. I had to take the conversation slowly.

“I hated feeling like that, but I appreciate you backing me up,” I expressed. “You and Marie.”

Jordan grabbed my free hand. “I know you and I know that your intuition is always right.”

I hoped it was right then as I sipped some more water. “So, about last night…”

Jordan hesitated and released my hand to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah, um, we should talk about that.”

This was new. Since I knew them, Jordan was always one of the most confident people in the room. They always looked people in the eye and had no problem seducing anyone they wanted. I only saw them flustered a couple of times but never when it came to anything romantic. It was kind of sweet.

“I know you said we were ‘okay’ but I also don’t know what that means since this is all new to me,” I admitted.

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in and once they did, Jordan’s eyes widened.

“You mean that last night was…”

I nodded and fumbled with the bottle cap. “And I know that guys freak out when a girl says that or they have some weird fetish about it, which is kind of why I’ve been avoiding talking about it with anyone. But, when you said things were ‘okay’ I felt really sad; like you were blowing me off.”

“No, shit, I didn’t mean it like that,” Jordan insisted. “I haven’t had the best experiences hooking up or dating people since most people only want one side of me. So, I tend to push my feelings away to avoid any…complications but I just didn’t want things to be awkward between us or for you to feel any pressure.” “But didn’t that just make things more complicated?”

Jordan groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, but the last thing I ever wanted was to blow you off or make you think that I blew you off. I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

I softly grabbed his hand with my free one, smiling at how his hand easily swallowed mine. “Just don’t do it again. I’m also super offended that you thought I didn’t like both sides of you. I mean, I kissed you when you were in female form.”

Jordan paused and eyed me for a second. “I thought that was so you could win.”

Okay, here it goes.

“The winning part was nice but I’ve also wanted to kiss you for a while now.”

There, I said it, it was out in the open for the most part. I could hear my heart beating in my ears as I watched a variety of emotions play across Jordan’s face. Then, he smirked.

“So, freshie’s had a crush on me for a while?” he teased.

I smacked his chest. “Why do you have to say it like that? You ruined it!”

“It does explain why you can’t keep your eyes off me,” Jordan sang.

“How would you know unless you were also looking?”

Jordan paused and scowled at me. “I miss when you weren’t this comfortable with me.”

“Really? You want me to be scared of you again?”

“Not scared but slower with comebacks.”

I laughed and swayed our clasped hands. “You’re the one who kept telling me you wanted to see me grow.”

“And I’m glad I got to see it.”

Was this why all the Si Chi girls in committed relationships grinned so wide their concealer creased when they saw their boyfriends? Were they all this good at making their hearts flutter and making them feel comfortable at the same time? Was this what everyone was chasing?

“Now what?” I asked.

“Now it’s whatever you want.”

It was like they were in my head sometimes, forcing me to do things that I avoided.

“What if I want you and Marie?” I asked.

As soon as I said it, the familiar anxiety rose somewhere around my heart. It was exciting and nauseating at the same time.

Jordan’s eyes widened. “You’re full of surprises, freshie.” “I keep surprising myself,” I admitted. “But, I know you two like each other and I like both of you and I feel weird even though I just poured my heart out. I don’t want to make things weird with either of you so if you don’t want to do this or stay friends or anything, I can deal with that.”

I wasn’t sure if that last part was true, but I wanted to give Jordan an out. They didn’t sign up to be in a relationship with me and another person anyway. Seeing them all the time would be painful too but, people got over breakups or relationships that never started every day.

All of a sudden, Jordan’s thumb gently wiped my left cheek. It was only then that I realized that I was crying and smiling simultaneously. He seemed concerned and I opened my mouth but he spoke first.

“You don’t have to act happy when you’re really scared or miserable around me,” he stated.

His words almost made me cry harder but he continued.

“And you didn’t let me answer your question. I’m open to exploring things with both of you…in a relationship.”

I gasped and covered my mouth. “Seriously?”

Jordan laughed and nodded. “Yes. When you caught us in her dorm the other day, we both wanted to talk to you but all this shit with GOD U got in the way. We tried to talk to you but, you avoided both of us until Dusty’s party.”

“Oh.”

“And then we skipped talking and went straight to sex.”

“Jordan!”

“What? It’s true.”

Thanks to the recovered memories, I did recall diving further into Rush Week festivities to distract myself. I also recalled how they separately tried to corner me at Dusty’s party and how we eventually---

I shivered at the thought and let my hands fall to my sides. “But, what if Marie---” “Look into the future if you’re that nervous about it but, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

I huffed. “I can’t use my powers right now even if I wanted to.”

Then, I wondered why I never thought of doing that earlier. Was I that busy with uncovering the conspiracy with the school and house recruitment? Or was it something else?

Jordan’s jaw clenched. “I can’t believe she messed with your head that bad.”

“And after I spilled my guts to her. I thought she was my friend, but a friend wouldn’t do that to me.”

“I don’t get why Marie wants to hear her out so bad, especially when she hasn’t known Cate as long as us.”

I sighed. “I think it’s because she’s the type of person to see the best in everyone and she must still see something in Cate.”

“I never got people who acted like that.”

“Maybe this is your chance to learn.”

Jordan smirked. “Look at you being optimistic about this already.”

“It’s just a possibility,” I muttered.

Despite that, my face and body felt warm all over. It was like I just had some hot tea on a cold night. It was different than usual happiness, I felt elated. So, the thought of her rejecting any part of this was even more gut-wrenching.

Then, one of Jordan’s hands softly cupped my jaw, almost like he was handling a porcelain cup or a baby animal. He tilted my head up to look at him and his eyes seemed to bore into my own.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, breath tickling my nose.

I nodded.

“Say it,” he quietly requested.

“Yes.” When his lips touched mine, I mewled, and I tried to pull away as the embarrassment clouded me. However, Jordan just pulled me closer, grinning into the kiss. My hands roamed from his neck to his taut shoulders and then his chest. Jordan’s hands slid to the small of my back and pulled me closer to him. When we separated, he smiled, revealing his dimples that appeared on rare occasions.

“Why did----” “Don’t overthink it and go find Marie, freshie,” Jordan insisted.

Walking away from him was surprisingly difficult; it was almost like they had a magnetic field around him. Somehow, I stumbled away and started searching the other rooms for Marie. As I wandered, I wished that I had found the time to make a spreadsheet of all the things I could say. I was never good at improvisation and needed a plan when speaking with people.

Somehow, it worked with Jordan, but I had no idea how things would go with Marie.

When I opened the next door, I gasped when I found Cate slumped on the bed. She leapt to her feet when the door opened and her eyes were stunned when she saw me.

“Sorry, I was looking for someone else,” I grumbled.

“Wait!” she called as I turned away. “Y/N, can we please talk?”

Her statement lit a fire in me that I didn’t know was there. Immediately, I whirled towards her.

“What else is there to say, Cate? You manipulated all of us because Shetty told you to,” I hissed.

“I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you or anyone.” She approached me slowly, almost the same as a hunter would a bear.

I scoffed. “Your intentions don’t mean anything; you hurt all of us.”

Cate stopped a few feet away from me. “I know and I want to make it right.”

It was as though we were talking in circles, and I was so tired, physically and mentally. I didn’t know how much more of the conversation I could take.

“Make it right? You gaslit me in front of all of our friends and pushed me to the point where I can’t even use my powers!”

Cate’s eyes widened. “What?”

I nodded and pinched my nose bridge. “Yes, ever since I came to from whatever dimension you sent my mind to, it’s like my powers are on mute.”

Cate flinched and crossed her hands in front of her. With her red eyes and slumped shoulders, one would have thought she was the one whose head got messed with. It incensed me that she acted like that but at the same time, I wanted to hug her.

“I panicked and I was just trying to get you to stay quiet. I shouldn’t have done that but Indira said that you’d benefit from it,” she whispered.

“Why would she think that?” I wondered.

Unless she didn’t.

Cate smiled sadly at me. “All I know is that she wants the best for both of us and I don’t think she’d lie about that.”

“But what about the others? A-and why did you get to remember when we couldn’t?” I questioned.

Cate sighed. “I don’t know. I just wish I could fix it.”

Even without my powers, I knew there was a fraction of a fraction of a possibility for Cate to fix any of this mess. At the very least, Cate would not be able to fix it alone.

Despite my better judgment, I stepped closer to her. “If you could figure out a way to pass all your finals and keep us all from getting caught from going off campus, you can probably figure out a way out of this mess.”

Cate sniffed. “Yeah, Andre did not make it easy last year.”

“No. I remember Jordan and Luke had to literally drag him off a party bus one night.”

Cate laughed. “And he kept yelling about how they were cockblocking.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “And this isn’t me saying that I forgive you or anything. I’m just saying you might be able to make things better.”

My words didn’t seem to shock her as she nodded slowly. I couldn’t help but wonder how Dean Shetty got her to do all of this and how she thought I could benefit from this experience. This was the same woman I vented to about my parents, anxiety, Si Chi, and my goals. She was the same woman who helped me set up regular meetings with Brink to test my powers.

So, why had she made one of my best friends do this?

I reached out to touch Cate’s shoulder but as soon as I made contact, she disappeared. Actually, the room and Dusty’s house overall were disassembled like Legos. I was surrounded by the forest and the sight of a bright gray sky. I circled around several times but I didn’t see anyone else.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” I called.

It was such a stupid idea but it didn’t hurt. I swallowed and started treading towards the forest.

“Cate? Jordan? Marie? Andre?” I called.

A breeze whipped past me and I jumped but, this breeze was warm and it had been colder out lately.

“You forgot about me that easily?” a familiar voice teased.

I slowly turned around and choked out, “Luke?”

#black!reader #jordan li x reader #gen v x reader #limoreau x reader #marie moreau x reader

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buryustogether · 11 months

Text

lilac - chapter 7

miguel o’hara x f!reader

wc: 5.3k

summary: the truth will always come to light.

warnings/tags: smut, p in v sex, domestic life, mentions of pregnancy (not reader), mentions of murder/bodies, knife violence, angst, choking, kidnapping

author’s note: listened to am i dreaming while writing this and bawled

Two weeks later, you found yourself slipping into one of the private rooms at The Menagerie, feeling the thumping, thrumming music all the way from the floorboards through your feet and into your teeth. Your very heart seemed to shake with the vibrations. Your thin, sparkly cape-like train swayed behind you as you moved quietly into the room, brushing against your thighs as you locked the door.

“Hi, handsome,” you said to the customer sitting in the chair in the center of the room. The neon lights were too bright, too loud, like you were floating in a dream from another planet. “How are you doing tonight?”

Before you were able to turn around, to even get in another breath, the man was up behind you, his chest pressing into your back and his hands trailing down your sides. His breath fanned across your ear, your temple, your neck. You would have told the guy to back off if you didn’t recognize the low, even voice that spoke just inches from the shell of your ear.

“Good to know you greet all your customers the same way,” murmured Miguel from behind the painted porcelain spider mask. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as his hands slowly slipped up your front, edging along the underside of your breasts. “Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, thinking they were special.”

Your racing heart slowed its uneven tempo as you were unable to put down the grin set upon your lips. You turned your head ever so slightly so that you were able to see a sliver of his wide, massive frame hulking over yours behind you. Moving upon their own accord, your hands reached up to rest over his where they sat on your stomach. Then you tugged his palms up so that they cupped your breasts through the flimsy fabric of your monarch costume.

“If you wanted me to touch you,” you said, just audible over the beat enveloping you both even here in the private room, “you could have just waited until I got home.”

“Hmm - but where’s the fun in that?”

Finally turning around, you smiled and reached up to nudge the spider mask over Miguel’s face. Those features of his - those beautiful, rugged, wonderful features of his - were bathed in the neon from the lights as you pulled it off his head entirely. His smirk was predatorial, hungry and eager to start the hunt for what he was after. You pushed against his chest, backing him up across the room because suddenly the roles had changed, and when he sat back in the chair to stare up at you, he knew it.

“The fun in that,” you said as you sank down to your knees before him, “is that you get to moan my name as loud as you want at home.”

This was how it had gone for these past two weeks, and that was how it went for the next one, as well. Pure bliss clouded your mind like a fog that refused to go away. Even if you wanted it gone, you couldn’t have gotten rid of it. Your brain was partially blind to the world around you as you went about your life as if you weren’t dating Miguel O’Hara, as if you weren’t housing Spiderman in your shitty little apartment, as if your world hadn’t been uprooted for the absolute better.

It went like this even when you called up the school at the beginning of the third week, reaching out to the front desk ladies who always did crosswords and snapped bubble gum instead of actually doing their jobs.

One of them picked up on the fourth ring. “Washington Elementary, this is Janice at the front desk.”

“Hey, Janice,” you said as you leaned over the countertop of your kitchen. A small cry attempted to escape you, but you were successful in keeping it down. “Listen, I know it’s short notice, but I need to use - hmm! - a couple of my vacation days I have saved up. I-I’m going out of town for the week and I won’t be back… back until next Monday.”

The front desk lady was typing away on that ancient computer of hers with those tacky nails, though you were barely able to hear it over the racing and thundering of your heart in your ears. “Alright,” she drawled in a voice that was way too slow for you. “Did you have a particular substitute in mind?”

You pressed your lips together until they ached as you pressed further up against the counter, practically folded over it at this point. “Nope,” you said, your tone strained and tight. “Any will do. And thanks! See you next week.”

“Wait-”

You clicked your phone off and sent it skidding further down the kitchen countertop, finally able to release the long, strangled cry that you had been holding in the entire call. The long, thick cock buried inside your sopping cunt had been shallowly bucking into you while you talked, and the wide, calloused hand pressing you by your upper back into the counter hadn’t helped, either.

You exhaled a pant and whimpered in pleasure as the man behind you leaned over your smaller form, his warmth pressing up against you. “Good girl,” Miguel murmured against the shell of your ear, then bit it gently with the tips of his fangs. “I told you you could stay quiet for me.”

Days were spent lounging around the apartment, recovering from the throbbing ache the previous day’s (or, oftentimes, that morning’s) sweaty, heated session had left you with between your thighs. You would tidy up your home or run errands, always anticipating the soft sound from your bedroom of the window being rolled up and the near-silent noises of Spiderman crawling in from the fire escape. Afternoons you would spend bent over the nearest surface - the counter, the arm of the couch, the bed, the coffee table. He didn’t care, and neither did you. And the evenings were spent with dinner with your new little family, or out at late night soccer games flooded with light from the torches over the field. No matter where you were, whether it was his leg pressed against yours or his hand slid into your back pocket or just his hand atop yours, Miguel was always touching you.

It felt like a dream. It felt like maybe you’d died and gone to heaven, because, really, life in this smog-ridden, violet-colored sky couldn’t be this good. It shouldn’t have felt this good.

And, of course, because all things must come to a close, an end, a stop - this dream did.

It was late in an afternoon, when the sky outside had just finished painting itself with the dull colors of sunset, that you found yourself folding laundry in the living room and watching the news on your television. Unconsciously, because you had been doing this for nearly three weeks now, you made three stacks of the clean clothes; yours, Gabriella’s, and Miguel’s. His and yours were set aside to go back to the bedroom. Hers would stay out here and be stored in the drawers of your shelves; if the O’Haras were going to be staying with you for much longer - which you really, really hoped they did - you were going to need a bigger apartment. Gabriella needed her own room. And you and Miguel… you needed a bedroom with thicker walls.

You’d decided to wear one of his favorite dresses - a short, pink little number - in anticipation for when he retired from patrolling the city this afternoon. He intended, as he’d told you this morning before you both got out of bed, to come home, fuck you until you saw stars, have dinner, then go back out again for a night watch.

And you had no problem with that.

You’d just reached down to grab a shirt from your basket when there came a knock on your front door. Not gentle, but not unfriendly, either. Standing straight and turning the television down a few levels, you silently padded across the apartment and stood on your tiptoes to raise yourself to look through the peephole. The multiple golden locks glinted to your right.

You’d expected to find a neighbor asking for a favor, or maybe girl scouts selling cookies for their little fundraisers. Hell, even your landlord coming to ask if the new additions to your apartment would be staying permanently, and if so, demanding more rent. But instead, you found three people you had not seen before. They were an odd little trio, one that made you take a second glance after you had scanned them all over once.

The one who had knocked on your door was a woman with dark skin and large, round glasses with tinted lenses sitting on her nose. One of her hands, the wrist decorated with bangles and other bracelets, protectively held the massive bump on her stomach; she looked ready to pop and have her kid any day. On her left was a boy that looked no older than twenty; he, too, was dark-skinned, with dreads that stuck out like a halo and multiple rings affixed to his nose, his brow, his ears… Eyeliner had been applied to his lids, and across his back was a sleek-looking electric guitar. And on the woman’s left was a middle-aged man in a fluffy bathrobe, busy adjusting the baby carrier strapped across his front. The toddler inside giggled and attempted to paw at his fingers.

Your first thought was that they were just a strange-looking family, maybe asking for directions or hoping for some charity. But if that was the case… why had they come up to your floor?

Taking a breath, you unlocked your door and swung it open. The trio looked up - including the red-haired baby - and they all seemed to do a double-take on you, as well. The man’s lips parted in surprise. The teenager quirked an amused smile. And the woman pressed her lips together in a sense that said she saw something she didn’t like.

“Now we know why the bloke’s stayin’ ‘round here,” said the boy in a thick English accent.

Blinking a few times, you nervously folded your hands over your stomach and put on your best smile. “Hi,” you said to the tiny group. “Can I help you at all?”

The woman - who had visibly composed herself - returned your smile and straightened herself out. “Sorry to bother you,” she said in an apologetic way that, if you thought you heard right, sounded more on edge than anything else. “We’re looking for Miguel O’Hara; he’s a friend of ours. Does he live anywhere around here?”

For a brief moment, you flashed back to that day at Alchemax, when you’d overheard Lyla the defective AI talking to Miguel about spending time with friends. Were these the friends she’d been speaking of? Fuck, you suddenly wished you remembered their names. “He lives here, actually,” you said, then stepped aside to welcome them in. “Would you like to come inside? He’s out… running a few errands, but he should be back any time now.”

One by one they filed into your apartment, practically filling the little kitchen your front door opened into. The boy hopped up on your kitchen counter, adjusting his guitar strap across his chest and spreading his legs out to take up space.

You introduced yourself to them, told them your name. “Can I get you anything to drink?” you said, eyeing the strange little trio as they took in your apartment. Suddenly you felt like you were being held under a microscope; they were examining your decor, the pictures on your walls, the half-finished stack of laundry still sitting on the couch. You guessed you’d expected Miguel to have more… plausible friends. Other scientists at Alchemax. Fellow single fathers. Not a stylish pregnant woman with something against you, a manspreading teenager who was leaning back on his hands on your damn counter, and a middle aged man cooing at a toddler strapped to his chest.

“No, we’re fine,” said the woman.

“Actually,” said the man, earning himself a swift glare from his companion, “do you have anything sweet lying around? She just had lunch, and she gets fussy if she doesn’t have the dessert I promised.” He gestured to the red haired little girl sitting in her carry-on seat, staring up at her father with large, wide eyes.

“Peter, stop it,” hissed the woman.

Shaking your head, partially to dismiss the strangeness of the whole situation, you stood up on your tiptoes and began to search through your cupboards for something sweet; you’d been keeping a lot more treats around since Gabriella had moved in. “No, it’s okay,” you said as you handed the box to Peter, who gasped dramatically for the sake of his baby. “I need to get rid of these anyway.”

You stood back against the sink, feeling awkward in your own home as the strangers waited. Clearing your throat and attempting to look busy folding a dish towel, you said, “So… how did you guys meet Miguel? He hasn’t really talked about his friends much… at all, to be honest. I kind of thought he was more of a lone wolf.”

“Hah!” the boy on your counter barked out a laugh. “That he is, love.”

“We work with him,” said the woman. She reached up to adjust her tinted glasses, and it was then that you noticed she wore a silver band around her wrist with some kind of orange interface - a watch of some kind? You peeked at the other two, and realized they wore them, as well.

“Really?” you said, tilting your head and forcing yourself to smile. You glanced at the boy. “No offense, but… I didn’t think Alchemax would hire anyone so young. Are you an intern?”

“They wish,” he replied and crossed his ankle over his other leg. He wore bright teal sneakers, one sporting yellow laces and the other, blue. “Don’t think some stuffy, thieving corporation like that could handle me even if they tried.”

Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes, in the process of breaking up cookies to give the toddler against his front. “Sure, Hobie,” he snickered. “That’s why.”

“He told you he works at Alchemax?” said the woman, who had come closer to you than you realized until she was just feet away. You were able to see her eyes through her shades - almond-cut and heavy-lidded, those brown irises filled with an emotion that you could not place. It intimidated you slightly, and you wanted to look away, but her words brought an unfamiliar sense of unease slowly rolling through you.

“I… yes?” you said, wringing the towel in your hands now. “He does work there. I’ve - I’ve been to his office before. He’s a geneticist.”

“Jessica…” said Peter in a voice that sounded akin to a warning.

Jessica’s lips had pursed into a thin line, one that set a line at the corner of her mouth. You backed further against the sink. “Do us a favor and call him,” she said, but it didn’t sound like a favor, and more of a demand. “We really need to speak to him.”

Swallowing thick and steeling your heart, because no longer did you refuse to be ordered around in your own home, you set down the rag and stood straight again. “I think it would be best if you all left,” you said, looking around at the three. “I’ll tell Miguel you dropped by.”

Then, like they were a pack of animals all sensing something you could not - even the damned baby - they all turned their heads in the direction of your bedroom. Their eyes were focused, all other movements ceased. It was one of the strangest things you had ever seen. Then, finally, you heard it, too - the sound of your window being opened, of a heavy weight vaulting inside and landing on the hardwood floor with a soft thud.

“Perfect timing,” said Jessica, and a film of goosebumps trailed over your skin.

For a long, agonizing few moments, you all stood perfectly still, waiting for Miguel to appear from the bedroom. The only sound was the television still playing the news and the soft cooing of the baby against Peter’s chest as she continued devouring cookies.

Feeling your heart racing in your chest, listening to it thunder and roll in your ears, you took a breath and called, “Mig?”

His reply came from the bedroom just a moment later. “It’s just me.”

“Yeah.” You turned a wary gaze to the strangers standing in your kitchen, wringing your hands, now. “Could - could you come here, please? Now?”

He must have sensed the slight waver in your voice, maybe he smelled your nerves in the air - he seemed to have been fine tuned into your senses now - because at once, the bedroom door opened and his careful, mindful footsteps tread down the hall. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him enter the room still in his suit, his hair mussed from having just deactivated his mask. When he laid eyes on the intruders cornering you in the kitchen, he stopped solidly in his tracks.

“There’s the man of the hour,” said Hobie, then lay back entirely across the counter to grin at your boyfriend upside down. “Fancy catchin’ you here, ain’t it?”

Miguel stared hard at the teenager, his chest rising and caving in an uneven pattern and fists clenched at his sides. “Get down,” he ordered in a low, frightening voice that told you at once - these were not his friends. “Now.”

“Miguel,” said Jessica as she crossed the kitchen to meet him. “We seriously need to talk about this.”

“About what?” he snapped.

She pulled an expression that screamed this was not the first time they had talked about this. One hand resting on her swollen belly, she raised the other to gesture around your apartment. It threw your heart out of tandem. “About this. What are you doing, O’Hara? This - this is insane. I don’t know what kind of screw came loose in that brain of yours, but you’ve completely lost it.”

You had no idea what they were talking about. For a moment, you thought she was speaking about your relationship with Miguel. Then a moment became seconds. What was happening? Who were these people and what business did they have interfering with your lives?

Miguel stared daggers into the woman, but she only returned them with equal heat. He took a breath in through his nose as if he were going to say something, then quickly, with intent, turned his eyes to yours.

Understanding at once, you squeezed past Peter, who was now letting his daughter dig through the bag of cookies, and tread carefully past Miguel. You were practically able to feel the fury radiating off of him in waves. “I’ll give you all some privacy,” you said softly, tiptoeing back into the living room. You took up your previous space beside the couch and resumed folding the laundry, but your mind was still back in the kitchen. What the fuck was going on?

Your eyes were trained on the news, but your ears - and attention - were straining to hear the conversation being whisper-shouted just in the next room.

“You’re out of your damn mind, Miguel!” Jessica said. “Purposely changing canon events? Redirecting this dimension so it wraps around your little fucking finger? What’s going on?”

“This is different,” Miguel hissed, and you knew at that moment that he was distraught, because he was letting his fangs get in the way of his speech. He hardly ever let that happen. “I’m balancing the canon events. This dimension is still stable.”

You recognized Hobie’s voice, thick and heavy with his accent. “Really?” he said, and you heard the electric twang of his guitar being fiddled with. “What’cha call that glitch in Brooklyn, then?”

“Why exactly are you here, Brown?”

“Don’t know. Wanted to see fur fly, I’spose.”

“We’re here to take you back to HQ, Miguel,” said Jessica in that stern, commanding voice that she had used with you. “You’re tearing this reality apart at the seams. You know what happens if you do.”

Trying to listen in further, you took a step toward the kitchen, placing a hand on a shelf beside an empty vase.

“You have no power over me, Drew,” Miguel snarled. “In fact, I’d say you’re far out of line.”

“If I am, you can’t even see the damn line anymore, you pompous ass.” She exhaled a breath, likely trying to calm herself. “You’re the one who preaches to the others how dangerous altering canon events are. Why are you doing this?”

“Oh, I think we know why,” Peter piped up then, but his voice was light, teasing, even. Trying not to sound hostile, trying not to invoke those powerful claws and fangs. His daughter cooed and babbled.

There came a moment of long, palpable silence. But your attention was then drawn to the television, to a breaking news coverage.

Jessica exhaled. “You can’t save them, Miguel,” she said in a voice that almost wasn’t there. “Either of them. You’re damning them by staying here.”

“Enough,” came Miguel’s deathly quiet whisper.

“You’re killing them,” she snarled then, and the baby’s nonsense silenced. “Both of them; that little girl, that poor woman, you are literally tearing them apart from the inside out.”

“ENOUGH!”

Your hand slipped and knocked over the vase, sending it to shatter into pieces on the floor. The conversation in the kitchen ceased, but you did not notice any of it. Your eyes were glued to the screen, lips open and heart stopped in your chest and world falling apart at the seams.

From the kitchen, Miguel said your name. He - along with the strangers - stepped into the living room. You felt a hand on your arm, and it sent pinpricks like fire racing through your skin. They all followed your gaze to the television, where a reporter was listening to an earpiece.

“That’s right,” she said to the camera. “We’ve just confirmed that the remains of the body found by authorities just two hours ago are, in fact, from renowned Alchemax geneticist Miguel O’Hara. Reports are saying he allegedly died from a gunshot wound inflicted by a second party. The body was found hidden in an abandoned warehouse set for demolition to clear room for -”

The silence in the apartment was so tense, so thick, you could have sliced it with a butcher knife.

And that was exactly what you intended to do.

That hand on your arm had tightened its grip. Slowly, because you were afraid if you went too fast you’d faint, you turned your head to look at Miguel. Not Miguel. Not Miguel O’Hara. Because Miguel O’Hara was dead. This was not him. An imposter. A twin, maybe. But nevertheless, an imposter.

This was not Miguel. This was a stranger - and you had fallen in love with him.

Holding your arm, the man was already staring at you. Those eyes that you had come to love, had gazed into while he held you, while he fucked you, were trained on yours with a certain kind of glaze you could not decipher. The strangers were all watching the pair of you, waiting, unsure of just what was about to happen.

The man said your name in that way you loved. Now it made you sick. “Hey,” he said, turning you to face him. He raised his wrist and shot out a web that clicked the television off. “Hey, baby, don’t listen to that. I was - I was called about this earlier today. There was a mix up with the names.”

You could not hear him. You only heard the blood rushing through your ears, only felt the icy cold that had replaced your veins. Slowly, placing one foot in front of the other, you padded past the man. Past the strangers. Into the kitchen - where you silently unsheathed a butcher knife from the block on the counter.

You felt his presence behind you, like a ghost, like a shadow; like the stranger he was, following you. That’s what he had been doing all this time. Following you, stalking you. Pretending to be someone you would trust. Oh, fuck; had he taken Gabriella after her real father was killed? Had he been manipulating her this entire time?

He said your name again, touched your waist. And you struck.

With a cry that came from somewhere deep in your throat, filled with all the shock and rage and confusion and anger you had within you, you spun around and slashed the knife at the man. His senses must have gone into overdrive, because he jumped back, then shot out a web to stick your hand - and the knife - to the countertop.

“Miguel!” cried Peter as the others crowded in after him.

You released a scream at the four of them, trying desperately to pull the webbing off your hand. “Leave me alone!” you shrieked up at the man watching you with wide, frantic eyes. “Get out! Get away from me!”

“Hey, hey, baby, you have to listen to me.” The man grabbed your other fist when you tried to swing it at him, pinning you down against the sink. When you screamed again, he clapped a hand over your mouth. “Listen to me, baby. You remember what I told you that day at Alchemax? About twin dimensions and realities?”

Jessica took a step forward. “Miguel, enough,” she said, but her words fell on deaf ears.

“It’s true,” he said to you, bringing his face close to yours, despite how much you tried to pull away. “I’m not from this dimension. Mine, my home - it was destroyed. This reality’s Miguel, he was a done case, but I stepped in, you understand me? I couldn’t let Bri be an orphan, I couldn’t -” He stared at you, his heavy breath fanning over your face, his eyes wide and desperate. “I couldn’t let you go, don’t you see that?” He shook his head slightly. “I’m still Miguel. I’m still your Mig. I’m still yours.”

Then his mouth was on yours, his hands holding either side of your head in a grasp that felt as though it were bruising your scalp. He tasted just like you remembered, just how you liked, just like how you loved. And for a moment, for a stupid, foolish moment, you were kissing him back. Because he was still your Miguel. He wasn’t from here, from your reality, but dammit, he was still yours.

But your body acted upon its own accord, shoved your mind and your logic out the window. Because you’d gotten your hand free of the webbing. Letting go of the knife, you shoved him backward, ducked under his arm, and ran for the front door. He yelled your name, roared it, but you were quicker than him. You slammed the door open, swung around, and threw it shut, then dashed down the stairs of your apartment building.

Your lips still tasted like him.

When you burst into the fresh air, you looked around for only a moment before taking off running again. You’d left everything behind - your phone, your wallet, everything - but you couldn’t stop running. Couldn’t stop running from the man who had - from what he’d said - taken the place of a dead man, played father to a child that was not his, loved you like it was actually meant to be.

You knew now that Lyla the AI had not been defective. You knew now that you were supposed to be dead by now, strangled to death by your ex boyfriend. You knew now why Miguel was late that first day picking up Gabriella. You understood everything.

Through the tears you realized were spilling down your cheeks, you managed to look a few feet ahead of you and skidded to a stop, nearly crashing into the people in front of you. A crowd of onlookers from every street on an intersection were watching, filming, screaming, as a skyscraper glitched and warped in on itself, folding and twisting as if it were on a television screen and the signal was going out.

Then, across the street, a car began to glitch. It skidded through a red light, plowed into another vehicle crossing the intersection.

A few blocks down, there came an explosion that rocked the entire street. People screamed and ducked.

Oh, fuck. It was happening - like Jessica had said. Your reality was tearing apart.

Because of Miguel.

You began to back up with the crowd as, around you, your universe was tearing apart at the seams. But then from behind, there came more screams and shrieks of panic, a symphony of chaos and pure, unbridled panic. You turned to face the street, and your heart turned to frozen, petrified ice within the confines of your chest.

The villains Spiderman - Miguel - had been putting behind bars this past month had broken free; Doctor Octopus, Kraven, the Vulture… they had all escaped, now joined together as they approached the small mass of people you stood with on the corner. Leading them was a figure you did not recognize; purple and black costume and tactical gear, mask of pure violet with electric eyes that shone like the glinting tips of the claws on their hands.

The figure entered the crowd, which parted like a sea for him, swarming in every direction possible. You backed yourself up against the front of the building you stood beside, feeling horrified, panicked tears spilling down your face as the person stopped just inches away. With one clawed hand, they reached up to gently wipe away a drop cascading down to your chin; you felt the blade of the claw nick you, and the tear was replaced with a sliver of blood.

“Please don’t cry,” said the person - said the man - behind the mask. “Not here.” You couldn’t help the warbled, strained cry that escaped your throat when he brought his head closer to yours, so that his mouth was leveled with your ear. “What’s the matter, babe? Don’t recognize the Prowler?”

Babe.

Suddenly, in that moment, you didn’t care that Miguel had lied to you. You didn’t care that he was from another dimension, that the fates had destined you to be apart. You didn’t care about any of that. You just wanted to be in his arms, shielded from this awful world falling apart at the edges by those sinewy arms and that red, chilling gaze.

You wanted Miguel because when the Prowler’s mask dematerialized and he pulled his head back, you knew the face staring back at you.

Ferris gave a wide, unnatural, sickening smirk as he watched realization dawn in your eyes. That smile curled even further when it was replaced with fear. “Take it easy, babe,” he said, his lips just inches from yours. “There’s a lot of work to be done to be getting this worked up just yet.”

Behind him, Doctor Octopus leveled his shades as one of his long, winding, mechanical arms unfurled from beneath him. Clasped by the back of her jacket with the sharp, glinting claw was Gabriella O’Hara, curled into herself as she sobbed loudly and hung onto the metal for her life.

Leaning in closer yet, Ferris shot out a clawed hand and wrapped his palm around the column of your neck. His fingers fit perfectly around the bruises just beginning to fade there; like puzzle pieces, because no matter how hard you tried to shape or bend or destroy the shape, there would only ever be one correct fit. “Let’s take a walk,” he said. “You’re going to help us catch a spider.”

tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick @natthernandez @bakgoktski @soupsexsunsalutationsss @roxannarichie @lovagirlxxx @soggyeyeballsss @yoyoyoyoyo55555 @sophipet @quaintii @lavnderluv @cookiezxx @euphorica @its-a-polyglot @nicalysm @maxi-ride @exzidss @crappwr0m @femme-is-dead @bitch-onthemoon @hier—soir @takayomi @kirke-is-my-name @d1lf-loverrr @might-be-a-rat @brooks-lin @maki-z @bookfreakk @act1839 @dollscircus @sleepingaway @anxietybutterfly @bioticboot @mxkn @freeingrebels @digitalcreature404 @aimee777 @hunnaye @blahbahed @cyanide-mustard @impettywhenyouare @mental-illness-is-my-friend @bobfood @jenniferdixon05207 @moonchild-cupcake @venomous-ko @marvelouslovely-barnes @syarblu @fruitcupsworld @soooooyesbutactually-no @hopefulcandywitch @elwyn7 @oh-theseus @thepanwiccan @takayomi @dreamingofbucky @yuuuumii @p1nkliquor @scammer-get-scammed @mlishe

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara smut #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara atsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #miguel atsv

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brewstersbru · 6 months

Text

Got inspired so enjoy some bloodweave!!! <333

“What are you reading?”

Astarion jumps a little at the suddenness of the question, he’d been reading, alone, for hours now and had assumed all of his companions to be asleep. It seems he had erred in his assumption, as Gale peers at him, squinting in the dark. Astarion sighs, burdened.

“What could you possibly need from me, wizard? Shouldn’t you be cuddled up, all snug in your bedroll?” Gale laughs a little, strained and careful, but continues his approach. Astarion rolls his eyes, snaps his book shut with a decisive whack, and sets it aside.

“Couldn’t sleep. And I see you reading every night, it’s only natural that I’ve wondered what genre of tome could possibly enrapture you so, a man normally much too aloof for anything to grasp onto.”

His voice carries a kind of smug tilt to it, like he’s trying to tease but is too sincere of a man for it to come out as anything other than a collection of awkward observations. Astarion returns a more practiced smirk.

“Mmm. I see.” The words rumble and slur together into something almost animalistic, Astarion’s not quite sure what overtakes him, in this moment, but there’s a kind of vulnerability to Gale. A soft belly upturned to the world, a rabbit twitching its nose but refusing to run.

As a predator- a hunter, at times- Astarion is well practiced in spotting and pouncing on these vulnerabilities. He smiles toothily.

“So you’ve been watching me?”

And Gale? Well, Gale laughs. Quiet, but boisterous and chortling. He shakes his head.

“Did that really work on people?” He continues to laugh. Astarion draws his brows, puzzled. He hadn’t intentionally been trying to draw him in, but in hindsight that’s probably what it looked like. After years of honeypotting, his purr and growl are often one and the same. Astarion allows himself a small smile, but stows it as soon as Gale draws close enough to bathe in the candlelight.

Silence hangs for a moment.

“It’s a romance novel. Drivel, really, but I’m not one to be picky.”

Gale hums and inclines his head towards the book. “May I take a look?” Astarion nods and shuffles to the side, “Please, be my guest. Fair warning, though, it will rot your brains.”

A laugh then, as Gale settles next to- but notably far enough to not touch- Astarion on the rug he’d pilfered from some poor sap’s home. It’s quiet, again, as the wizard flips his way through the pages of the book. It’s clear from the quick dart of his gaze that he’s not really reading it, just scanning the most interesting parts. Astarion waits quietly, a state quite unnatural to him but that feels right in the muted intimacy of the moment. He watches the way Gale’s eyes change as he reads, bright, always, but with intermittent flashes of surprise, and mirth. It’s not a bad look on him. Astarion refrains from mentioning that.

“Well,” Gale sighs heartily and gently places the book back where it had been sitting, “that was quite possibly the worst thing I’ve ever read. I mean really, her ‘evil’ orc boyfriend who ‘changes’ for her and shuns his entire family for the sake of their union? And don’t get me started on the more intimate scenes, if I ever read the word “member” again I think I’ll-“

Astarion can’t help himself, he bursts into a tight, brief set of giggles before hunching over himself. By refusing to look up, he misses the pure glee and adoration in Gale’s expression. Astarion shakes his head.

“Gods, you’re right. It’s horrid, isn’t it?”

Gale nods, somber, “Detestable. Truly, you have found no other books to occupy yourself with? I would argue this,” he points at the book with an accusing finger, “does more harm than good. You’d be better off simply not reading.”

Astarion shakes his head; something about the low candlelight, the relative isolation of his tent and the illusion of privacy it offers- it makes him want to be open, honest. To show his soft belly to someone who’s just trusted him with theirs.

“I- well- I would normally throw this wretched thing in the river.” He waves a dismissive hand in the book’s general direction. “It’s just, well, before I never had much time to read frivolous things like this. What with all of the screaming and agonizing and seducing I needed to do.” Astarion laughs a small, humorless giggle at himself, “It’s nice just to be able to sit in the warmth of the sun- when it’s actually daylight of course- and read. Even if it is mindless drivel like this.”

Gale hums, more to himself than anything, but eventually his eyes catch on Astarion’s, something warm and mischievous glinting within. “Do you trust me?”

Now it’s Astarion’s turn to laugh. “About as far as I can throw you, wizard. Which is to say I would pass out before I did.” He gestures to the thin wiry ropes of muscle that wrap around his bicep. Gale gives him another soft laugh.

“That’s fair, I suppose. Will you do me a favor then, and come with me for a moment? Leave the book.” As he speaks, Gale rises from the rug, knees giving twin creaks as he straightens. He winces at himself and smiles something small and self-deprecating.

Astarion, equal parts dubious and curious stands with him. “Well now I have to know. Lead on, wizard.”

“It’s Gale, you know.” Gale comments, as they begin walking back towards the circling of tents a bit closer to the campfire. Astarion huffs. “I know.”

He lets the silence settle, and sit for a bit.

Gale chuckles and shakes his head, “Yeah I suppose I should have guessed that’s what you’d say.”

It’s not long before they come upon Gale’s own tent and the wizard opens the flap, disappearing inside. Astarion waits near the entrance for a couple of minutes before Gale’s head- hair adorably unkempt and still squinting into the darkness- pops out to usher him in. “Thought you didn’t need an invitation to enter anymore? Or is the tadpole’s magic so limited?”

Astarion rolls his eyes and smacks lightheartedly at his head as he ducks inside. “You’re such a little shit!” Said shit only grins and returns to… whatever the hell he’d been doing.

The inside of his tent is almost impossibly spacious but Astarion guesses that has something to do with being a wizard. There are scrolls and ink pots just kind of lying around but the chaos is rather cozy. The largest thing in the tent, however, is the absolute leviathan of a bookcase off to the right, which Gale is now rummaging through, muttering to himself.

“Romance… Romance… Wait, does he even- ASTARION- oh you’re right here, perfect, do you even like romances? What’s your preferred genre?” There’s an urgency to his words and movements but it’s not frantic. Rather quite the opposite actually, he looks more at home here and now than Astarion thinks he’s ever seen him.

“Oh- uh- well, darling, I’m not quite sure. It’s been a while. I do think I’ve always enjoyed romance when it’s- well- good.” Gale nods decisively and returns to his task, a man on a mission. Astarion tries not to notice how sweet he is, how sweet the whole situation is, really. He’s just appreciative of the arts, can’t go around letting people besmirch its name with nonsense like this stupid book or anything.

“Aha! Here-“ Gale lifts a rather thick tome from the shelf, it’s got quite an ornate cover- a mix of dark blue with gold embossing- and he shakes it like he’s just found a particularly useful scroll, “it’s an enemies to lovers epic surrounding two clerics- one of shar and the other of selune- and their struggles with their respective faiths and the adventure they embark upon.” His smile is almost blinding in its intensity and Astarion finds he has to look away. Has to squash this warmth fluttering in his gut.

“Did you just read that from the summary?” He’d tried for a snarky sneer, but all that came out was genuine curiosity. How many times would one have to read something to be able to recite its summary from memory like that? Although, Gale’s always been quite bright.

“Not at all. I’ve read this enough times I could probably recite the first chapter from memory!” Gale’s still smiling but there’s something strained and uncomfortable to it that makes Astarion unreasonably unhappy. He thinks for a moment.

“Would you? Darling, my eyes were just starting to hurt from the prattling prose of that hack of an author, they could use a bit of rest… Would you mind terribly getting me started?” His face had just seemed so puppy-like, so eager to share his interest in this piece of fiction that even the thought of implying that that was bad or annoying or at all anything but hopelessly charming was… well… unthinkable. As a reward for his kindness, Gale absolutely beams at him.

“I would be honored, my friend! But first-“ With a snap of his fingers all of the candles snuff out, leaving the two of them in complete and utter darkness.

“Uh, Gale, dear, as much as I do enjoy good mood lighting I don’t think you’ll be able to actually read in-“ Before Astarion can finish speaking, a bright, almost blinding orb of light materializes in the palm of Gale’s hand. He gestures to his right and the orb moves itself into the corner of the tent.

Blinking, Astarion notices the comfortable warmth seeping into his skin from the rays of light the orb is emitting. He grins over at Gale, who had already been looking at him, furrow of trepidation between his brows.

“You mentioned you liked to read in sunlight, and, well, it’s not like either of us is going to sleep tonight, right?” His smile is more sheepish, this time.

Part of Astarion wants to cry, part of him wants to kiss Gale on his pretty mouth, part of him wants to destroy this tent and all of the books in it.

He decides to sit. Gale joins him after a moment. He reclines himself on the pillows that line the other man’s bedroll and then rolls himself into his lap. Gale simply huffs, mutters something about “Tara” and situates the book in his hand in such a way that allows for his other hand to card through Astarion’s hair.

Astarion really does cry, now, but the tears are silent and Gale graciously pretends not to see them.

“The moon cannot shine on it’s own. Each night the sun caresses its cheek, granting its light and we are able to watch this act of love from a distance…”

They fall asleep, or rather, Gale does. In the midst of a sentence his daylight spell blinks out of existence and he kind of slumps in on himself, hands going lax. Astarion is only able to catch him and the book because of his almost impossible dexterity.

Astarion huffs a ghost of a giggle at him, but carefully bookmarks the page, sets the book aside, and tucks the wizard in. He sleeps like a rock, it seems, because even with all of the jostling he remains steadfastly unconscious.

After a moment of gazing and contemplating at Gale’s relaxed face, Astarion uses one of the many available inkwells and quills and scribbles out a short note.

Had a great time tonight, darling. Let’s do it again sometime, I’m aching to know if Shenra and Kaye actually kill each other.

He doesn’t kiss Gale’s forehead as he leaves but the thought crosses his mind, and he regrets not doing it when he reaches his own tent.

Damned wizard. Damned Gale.

#bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #bloodweave #astarion x gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #cringefail bfs #i love them sm #both of their love langs are acts of service but also neither of them can receive aos well #no idea how long this is but oh well

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joelsgreys · 1 year

Text

jealousy l a safe haven drabble

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: When Esther invites Joel to her place for dinner, he reassures you that you have nothing to be worried about.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. jealous reader, soft Joel, infidelity, at this point these two are having a full on affair, fluff.

word count: 3k

“Helloooo? Yoohoo, is anybody home in there?”

“Ouch,” you gasp out as a foot connects with your shin underneath the table. You look up and shoot an annoyed glare at the curly haired woman sitting across from you at one of the smaller tables in the commune’s mess hall. You reach down, your hand rubbing over the spot where she’d kicked you with the hard toe of her boot. “What the hell was that for, Martha?”

Martha giggles. “Oh, hi. So glad you could join us again.”

Glancing from her to Maria, you frown. “What are you talking about?”

Maria playfully scoffs into her glass of lemonade. “Oh wow, she was so zoned out that she didn’t even realize she was zoned out.”

“I was not zoned out,” you counter, shaking your head.

“Okay, if you weren’t zoned out then tell me, what were we talking about right now?” Martha challenges, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips. It widens when she sees the uncertainty in your gaze. “Just now, what were we saying? Hm?”

Shit.

“You said that—um,” you rack your brain, desperately trying to remember what the two women had been chatting about. “Something about—it was something about the market, right?”

“Aha! I knew it,” Martha laughs again, pointing an accusing finger at you. “That proves it. You weren’t listening.”

“Alright, alright. You caught me, Sherlock. I wasn’t listening,” you admit, sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s just that my mind’s been a little preoccupied.”

“Yeah, we can tell,” Maria teases, shaking her head. “And judging by that big ol’ smile you’ve had plastered onto your face all afternoon, I’m guess that whatever’s on your mind is a good thing and not a bad one.”

You glance down at the plate of fresh garden salad on your lunch tray, avoiding your friend’s curious gaze.

It’s been a couple of weeks since you’d started meeting with Joel. Early on, you both decided it was safest to meet after midnight and spent a couple of hours together, going your separate ways in the earlier hours of the morning just before sunrise to avoid being seen by anyone who woke at dawn for first shift work duties. Once you were certain that Luke was fast asleep, you’d carefully climb out of bed and silently slip out of the house, then walk over to Joel’s where he would already be waiting for you on his front porch. You would sit together on his porch swing—you wrapped up in the warm embrace of his strong arms, your head on his chest as you talked, stole kisses, and held each other for as long as possible until it was time to return to reality.

The reality where you’re not his and he’s not yours.

You’d tell him stories about where you grew up, described to him the foothills of your town and talked about your family’s ranch with fondness, with such passion that at one point, Joel had started to feel like he’d been there before. You told him about your family, your childhood, the dreams you had before the outbreak had pulled the rug from beneath your feet—and he listened earnestly, wanting to know everything there was to know about you. In exchange, Joel would tell you about his own life before the world ended. He’d talk about his life growing up with Tommy in Texas, how the two of them became contractors and started their own business together. He wasn’t quite as open as you had been, and oftentimes, you could sense Joel wasn’t ready to fully open up to you about his past—not only his past before the outbreak, but everything in between then and when he’d arrived in Jackson with Ellie. He wasn’t ready to talk about any of it, and you didn’t mind it.

Just like with Ellie, you’re willing to be as patient with Joel as you need to be.

Maria’s voice breaks into your train of thought. “What’s got you grinning from ear to ear, anyhow? Is there something we should know about?” She pauses, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth before asking, “Is there some kind of special news that you maybe want to share?” Placing a hand over her small, but now prominent baby bump, she gives you a hint as to what she’s insinuating.

She’d never lost faith that, one day, it’s going to happen for you and Luke. But little does she know that your desire to carry your husband’s child died a long, long time ago.

“I’m not pregnant,” you tell her, causing her to frown in disappointment. You finally look up at her and shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. To add another casual touch, you reach for your glass of iced tea and take a sip before saying calmly, “I’ve just been in a good mood lately, that’s all. I don’t think that’s anything too out of the ordinary, is it?”

Before either of them can chime in and say another word, a familiar voice rings over the loud, lively chatter in the mess hall. “Ladies!” Esther hurries over to your table and drops down into the vacant chair beside yours. “I’m so glad you’re all here!”

“Where the hell else would we be?” Martha remarks with a snort. “It’s lunchtime, Estie.”

“Where’s your lunch tray?” Maria questions her. “Aren’t you going to eat anything?”

Esther waves her hand dismissively. “You will never guess what I just did,” she says, excitedly, looking around the table. She waits and when nobody responds, she rolls her eyes and urges, “Come on, take a guess!”

“We’re not teenagers,” Martha chuckles, tossing her an eye roll right back. “Just fucking spit it out. What did you do?”

“I asked Joel to come over for dinner tonight!”

As you’re about to take a bite of your lunch, you drop your fork and it clinks loudly against your plate. All three women glance at you.

“Sorry,” you mutter quickly, your cheeks burning. “Clumsy me.”

Martha turns her attention back to Esther. She shoots her a skeptical look. “You asked Joel Miller over for dinner—and the man said yes? Are you serious?”

Beaming, Esther nods. “Yes! He’s coming over to my place. Tonight.”

Your stomach gives a violent, nauseating churn and for a split second, you’re afraid you’ll be sick all over the table.

“Wow,” Maria says, incredulously. “I can hardly even believe it. My brother in law likes to keep to himself most of the time. I can’t picture him agreeing to a dinner date.”

Esther doesn’t seem offended—in fact, there’s a glimmer of pride in her eyes. “Well, you had best believe it,” she says with a smug smile. “Because tonight, I do in fact have a dinner date with Joel Miller.”

You still haven’t said a word.

You can’t speak.

You feel like you can’t even breathe.

All you want to do is get up and leave the table before you can hear another word come out of Esther’s mouth, but you know you can’t do that without raising suspicion—or making your jealousy painfully obvious.

Esther turns to you and waits expectantly for your reaction. “Well?”

“That’s great,” you manage to reply, giving her the best supportive smile you can muster under the circumstances. “I’m really happy for you, Esther.”

“Wait, so if you’re going to cook the man dinner, then does that mean you’re going to be his dessert?” Maria jokes, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Of course,” Esther smirks. “Oh, with the things I plan on doing to him tonight, I’ll have to go down to the church house tomorrow morning and confess all my sins.”

The women burst into a fit of schoolgirl giggles.

Suddenly, you feel even sicker than you did a minute ago, but you have no choice but to force yourself to laugh along with them.

“Alright, come on, my love. Let’s pick up the pace. That’s a good girl,” you murmur softly in encouragement to Luna. You’re outside in the paddock hand walking the mare and observing her legs, searching for abnormalities in her trot. Ellie had mentioned she thought she’d seen the horse in some discomfort while she’d been out on an afternoon ride. Wanting to see it for yourself, you decided to take Luna on a stroll out in the paddock while Ellie and Dina are inside the stables taking care of the grooming. “Come on, pretty girl. Little bit faster now—”

The sound of Joel’s deep voice saying your name causes you to stop in your tracks. Stiffening, you glance over your shoulder.

He approaches the paddock, his rifle hanging over his shoulder by a worn, black leather strap—you immediately know he’s just gotten in from afternoon patrol. He’d mentioned to you that he had been taking on extra shifts, even working doubles after there had been sightings of potential raiders fifteen miles south of the gates. Afraid they’d draw closer to the commune, Tommy decided to heighten security, placing more men and women on the wall as well as on every patrol route.

“Hi,” you greet him. There’s a cool edge to your tone as you turn back towards Luna. You don’t even realize how hard you’re gripping the lead rope in your hand until you look down and notice how tightly your skin is stretched over your knuckles. “Ellie’s in Shimmer’s stall brushing her.”

Joel chuckles. “S’good to know, but I came to see you, darlin’,” he states, lowering his voice. There’s no one else out in the paddock, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. Being seen together can easily be played off by the fact that his kid’s working in the stables—but being overheard would be detrimental to yours and his blooming relationship. “Listen, I had an idea I wanted to run by you. Was thinkin’ we could meet out behind the barn tonight. Might be a bit safer than hangin’ out on my front porch—no risk of the neighbors seein’ us. What do you think?”

You don’t reply.

“We’re still on for tonight, ain’t we?” he asks, his hopefulness subtle, but present. “S’the first time all goddamn week I ain’t gotta work a double or do overnight patrol.”

You lift your unoccupied hand, resting it on Luna’s neck, focusing your eyes on her. “I don’t know, Joel. You tell me—are we still on for tonight?”

Frowning, Joel reaches out and places his hand on your arm—you immediately jump away, as if he’d burned you. “Hey, hey.” Though he’s confused, he remains composed. “What’s the matter?”

You try to meet his gaze, but you can’t even look at him. “Nothing, Joel.”

Stepping forward, he hooks a finger underneath your chin, lifting it as his eyes try finding yours. “Baby, look at me—”

“Joel, stop,” you hiss, swatting his hand away, your head furiously whipping around. “Don’t do that! Someone could see us.”

“Relax, darlin’. No one’s around. What the hell’s got you so worked up?” Perplexed by your strange behavior, Joel’s eyebrows pinch together. “There somethin’ I should know ‘bout? Did somethin’ happen with Luke?”

Your jaw clenches.

Either he’s a gifted actor or he’s genuinely clueless.

But Esther is your friend.

Surely Joel knows you would find out about their dinner date.

“Talk to me,” he encourages softly.

You release a small, but heavy sigh.

“I was having lunch in the mess hall with Martha and Maria today. Esther joined us and she told us all about how she invited you over to her place for dinner tonight.” You cringe at the way your own voice trembles. “She said you accepted.”

“Jesus, I knew that woman had a big fuckin’ mouth,” Joel mutters, irritably. He shakes his head. “Yeah, s’true. I accepted the invitation,” Noticing the disappointment—the hurt—that flashes in your eyes, he holds up his hands in defense as he begins to explain himself. “Look, it just happened. Me and Tommy were walkin’ to the mess hall after mornin’ patrol to grab a quick bite to eat before headin’ back out for afternoon watch when she came up to us and said hello. She asked me right then and there if I wanted to come over to her place for dinner—right in front of Tommy. She put me on the spot and I blurted out a yes ‘cause I knew Tommy would give me shit if I said no to her. Trust me baby, I wanted to tell her no. Almost did, but Tommy’s been insistent on help’ me meet someone. Figured acceptin’ one dinner would get his ass off my back.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, your eyes flit down and you stare at your boots in silence.

“Wait just a minute.” There’s a hint of amusement on Joel’s tone. “You ain’t jealous, are you darlin’?”

“I’m so glad you think this is funny,” you mumble, your face growing warm under his curious stare. You finally bring yourself to lift your gaze and it meets his. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s being honest, but that does nothing to make you feel any better—or any less envious. Foolishly, you add, “She’s planning to seduce you, Joel. She said something about being your dessert.”

He smirks. “She really said that?”

You glare at him. “Are you fucking kidding me, Joel?”

Joel laughs. “Oh, c’mon now, peach. Y’know I’m just messin’ with you. Esther could serve me dinner naked and I still wouldn’t be tempted,” he reassures you, confidently. “Look, I’m just goin’ over to her place to have dinner with her. That’s all. After that, I’m gonna head back home and wait ‘til it’s time to see you. Alright?”

Anxiously, you nibble the inside of your cheek.

You believe him. Of course you believe him. But there’s another part of you, the jealous part of you, that isn’t thinking rationally. Esther’s one of the most beautiful women in the entire fucking town—maybe he feels certain he’s not interested now, but all it could take is one look into her crystal skies to make him realize he could find happiness with someone he doesn’t have to sneak around with.

“I’ll meet you tonight,” he promises. “I will.”

“Joel, what if something happens and you decide not to show?”

“M’gonna show, peach.”

“But Joel—”

You stop abruptly as Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and begins to walk away from you.

“Midnight,” he says over his shoulder. “Behind the barn.”

Squinting, you hold your watch up to the moonlight to check the time.

It’s five minutes after twelve and Joel’s nowhere in sight.

He’s coming, you silently offer yourself the reassurance as the panic begins to settle in. Relax. He’s coming. He said he would be here, so he’ll be here.

…but what if he isn’t?

For all you know, Joel and Esther could be in her bed right now, tangled up in each other’s arms as they—

A pair of large, rough hands grab at your sides, startling you out of your thoughts.

Squealing in fear, you whirl around.

Joel doubles over slightly, muffling a laugh in the palm of his hand.

“Joel,” you hiss, narrowing your eyes at him. Slowly, your heartbeat slows, returning to its normal rhythm. “That wasn’t funny! You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!”

“Y’must have your head up in the clouds if you didn’t hear me comin’, darlin’.” Grinning, he reaches out and pulls you into his arms. He goes in for a kiss and chuckles again when you turn your face, his mouth meeting your temple instead of your lips. He gives your body a gentle squeeze. “C’mon, sweet girl. Don’t I get a kiss hello tonight?”

You lightly push him away. “That depends,” you state, taking a step backwards. “On whether or not you got a kiss from a certain blonde earlier this evening.”

Joel’s eyes twinkle. “Wow. You really are jealous, huh?”

You say nothing as you wait expectantly for his answer.

His smile fades slightly as he admits, “She, uh—she did try to kiss me tonight.”

Crestfallen, your heart sinks deeply.

“I dodged it,” he adds, quickly. “Look, Esther’s a nice woman and she’s real pretty—”

“Keep talking, Joel,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re doing great.”

Joel exhales something caught between a scoff and a laugh. His fingers curl around your wrists as he tugs you forward into his chest once more. “But she ain’t you, peach.”

Surprised, you glance up at him, your lips parting slightly.

“Y’know what I was thinkin’ ‘bout the whole time I was with her?”

“What?”

“How fuckin’ bad I couldn’t wait for it to be over,” he tells you. “All I was doin’ was countin’ down the minutes ‘til I could go back home—and when I did go home, I started countin’ down the minutes ‘til it was time to come see you.”

The tense, taut muscles in your body finally relax.

“Really?”

“Swear it on my life,” Joel murmurs. “I’m hooked on you, baby. Been hooked since the first time you ever smiled at me. You remember that mornin’?”

“Of course I do. During winter, in the stables. You were in Buck’s stall, saddling him up when I walked by and saw you.” You laugh softly as you recall, “You didn’t smile back at me.”

Exhaling an amused huff through his nose, Joel presses his lips to your forehead. “Yeah, I know I didn’t,” he acknowledges quietly against your skin, his guilt evident. “But I couldn’t forget it. Even after all that time passed when I wasn’t here, I couldn’t fuckin’ forget it and I didn’t know why. And then when I came back, I saw you again and you gave me that same goddamn smile. You even know what it did to me, peach? Hell, do you even know what you do to me, baby?”

You lean forward, resting your head on his chest. Closing your eyes, you relish in the feeling of his heartbeat thumping softly against your cheekbone.

Joel nuzzles his face into your hair. “Don’t want anyone else but you,” he declares. “Swear it. You’ve got me, sweetheart. Alright?”

Eyes still closed, you make him the same promise. “And you’ve got me.”

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller series #joel miller fluff #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller one shot #joel x reader #joel x oc #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #fic: a safe haven #fic: ash

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thefandomdirtymind · 7 months

Note

Definitely need a part 2 for Casual!! It's so good.

There are so many thoughts spinning. Not suggesting you use any just thoughts that popped up at the end, like, what if Zeff finds out? They start to do it more often, and one accidently says I love you? Or the typical what if she gets pregnant trope.

18+

A/N IMPORTANT: Hey Anon ! Thank you for the interest you took in casual ! Your ideas help me a lot. I confess I had indeed many though spinning around and as you will see, I will probably have to do a part 3. I hope you will like it.

Casual Part 2

Part 1 ( NSFW)

OPLA - Vinsmoke Sanji

Sanji / OPLA Masterlist and Coming Soon

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

—

The busy kitchen of the Baratie was as usual like a battlefield. The dinner rush had started and everywhere, cooks, waiters and chore boys were running to satisfy the customers and your father.

Yourself active with your orders, you couldn’t still stop your mind to think at this event a few weeks earlier. Sure, the festivity around the anniversary of the Baratie had been quite spectacular, but like the fireworks that had exploded that night, you couldn’t stop your brain from flashing souvenirs of things Sanji had done to you.

Like when he had insisted on kissing every exposed skin when he had undressed you or how the light of a firework ,coming from your window, had illuminated so beautifully his expression of pleasure when you had taken him in your mouth.

But the memory of the end of round two was the one who came back the most.

When with his wet mouth he had kissed your shaking tights, after that delicious session when he had eaten you out like a starving man. He had crawled above you, gently placing your legs on each side of his hips,letting his long fingers run on them, kissing your breast before capturing your lips. The change of pace didn’t affect you at first but, as he had pushed himself in you, his gaze totally caught in yours, as you moaned and were begging him to go deeper, your hand trying to find a grip on his back. You felt an intimity that wasn’t there before. As he thrusted in you faster, your vision still locked into each other, seeing the pleasure built, sharing needs, praises and encouragements, you knew that this exact point in time was special.

You knew that you were screwed when even cooking couldn’t shake off of your mind the way he had looked at you and groaned your name when he had finally come.

Of course he had moaned and said your name many times during the entirety of your sexy time, but not with as much intensity. Like if you were his whole world.

“ Y/N I need this salted crepe now, not tomorrow ! “ Your father shouted, making you jump.

“ Yes chef ! “ You replied, resuming your task, angry at yourself for allowing you to be that much affected by some casual sex. At least, the blond cook wasn’t in the kitchen , being once again removed from the line.

By the time the dinner rush was over, your head was clear, but you knew that you couldn’t just brush the sensation under the rug, you needed to clarify the situation and for the sake of Sanji and maybe, move on.

—

Humiliation and rage was boiling in Sanji veins as he was serving tables. How the old man could remove him once again from the kitchen just because of his fresh ideas. Sure, those days the inspiration didn’t stop, but it wasn’t really like he could stop his brain from thinking about cooking. Mainly now that if he wasn’t thinking about food, he was thinking of you. Mostly naked, your eyes filled with lust, whispering how good he makes you feel. Many frustrated nights had been spent, almost sleepless thinking about you. Stroking himself until he found his release, your name on his lips.

He knew he had to do something, tell you somethings, but every chance he had so far, your dad or a member of the staff had interrupted you. Living in a restaurant ship in the middle of the sea was, often, a pain in the ass when you wanted intimacy.

Watching from the corner of his eye the last client leaving, he finished to clean his last table before heading to the kitchen. With some luck you will still be there. But, as he was pushing the door, the only reminding person in the kitchen was Patty, cleaning the room.

“ Hey Patty,good to see that you finally do something you're good at “ He playful said, always happy to annoy the blue haired cook. “ I just finish the dinner room “

“ Good, I will see if Y/N has done the bar and we can call it a day. Boss man is probably already asleep, the lucky man “ The cook replied putting his rag on his shoulder.

“ I will go see if she’s done, go to sleep Patty, that's okay “ Sanji assured him, finally seeing his chance to be alone with you. “ Good night !”

“ Good night Sanji. Don't mess up the kitchen while I sleep“ The cook said,misunderstanding the eagerness of the sous-chef and heading to the dorms, as the blond man quickly walked to the bar.

You were behind the counter, aligning the bottles when he stepped in the open air area. Your hair down and your cook uniform gone, you were simply splendid in your faded t-shirt and shorts.

“ Sorry sir, the bar is closed “ You joked, the heat you recently felt every time you saw him taking his place in your lower belly.

But Sanji didn’t seem to hear you, his gaze focused as he joined you behind the bar, his arms forming around your body a lovely prison. One hand buried in your hair as the other found the small of your back, he headed straight to your lips, taking your breath away. He didn’t intend to rush you, but many days of thinking about being alone with you got the better of him.

Closing your eyes, you smiled, nibbling his bottom lips as he pulled you closer deepening the kiss.

“ Sanji, that’s a bad idea, somebody could see us…” You tried to protest, unable yourself to stop kissing his jaw and reaching with shaking fingers the small boutons of his shirt.

“ The bar is at the opposite side of the dock and everybody is asleep “ He replied, his breath short as he slid his hand under your shirt, making you whine under his warm hands against your fresh air cold skin. “I’m sorry darling,but I found myself in need of you.I had become addicted to your little moaning and your warmth. It drive me crazy” He confessed, smiling as his thumbs found your nipples under the thin fabric of your bra, making you moan as your body reacted to his touch.

" I had spent the last week thinking of how good it was to have you in me and what I would do to you " You responded, opening his shirt, leaving a trail of kisses on his chest " I think we need each other and way more frequently. "

" I agree. '' He said, as he opened your shorts, pushing aside your panties, brushing his fingers against the tender flesh. “ I would eat you out until the sun rises but after last time I don’t trust you to be quiet. “ He teases, his thumbs giving a small push against your clit,when two of his fingers were testing your entrance.

Trapped between the bar and Sanji's body, you bite your lips feeling his fingers, wet by your arousal, invading your warm center. On your lips, your moaning was dying under his kisses, but your body, accusing the fasten rhythm of his finger, was burning like a fever. Restrained by the small space of your shorts, each of his thrust short and deep, making you moan against his mouth. Bringing you closer to your release.

But, as you were letting go a little cry, Sanji slowly removed his hand, turning you against the bar, putting your shorts and pantie down before undoing his pants.

“ I’m sorry love, but I can’t wait any longer. “ He whispered against your shoulder “ Do you know how good you are around my finger, I have to be inside you or I will die before I see the All Blue. “

Gently pushing is cock in you, letting you adjust to his length, he slowly starts to thrust, his hands traveling on your body, caressing every sensitive area to his knowledge.

“ Sanji…” You moaned, as he leaves love bites between your neck and your shoulder. His pace took some speed,like if he had felt your need.

Securing one of his hands on your hip for a more firm control, his finger returned on your clit,teasing it with small circles, making you whine and grip the border of the bar.

Being quiet became more difficult when your orgasm caught you. Now that you hadn’t the mouth of your blond lover to mute you, you only could count on the noise of the night and the waves to help you muffle the sound of your small cry and your panting breath.

Stepping back, sliding out of you, not ready to come yet in your pulsing cunt. Sanji gently lifts you in his arms, before taking a comfortable seat on the burgundy seat.

You always liked the large bench at the end of the small bar. It was usually your spot after work, when the day had been rough and you needed a drink. But now as Sanji has taken a seat, supporting your hands while you installed yourself on his lap, you know it will definitely become your favorite spot.

Kissing his face, enjoying his lazy smile and his gaze darken by desire, as he watches his cock disappear into your folded. You smile of ease, rocking your hips, taking you time to feel every inch filling you.

“ Sanjii” You whined, the slow friction fogging your brain.

“Is that good darling ?“ He whispered, his hands taking a firm hold of your ass, helping you with the last inch before reaching his trembling tights.”hm..fuck...chérie”

Moaning against the crock of his neck, you nod of the head, not entirely trusting your voice to not scream or cry, as you lift yourself up and let your body come down again. After some slow trust, you finally settle a steady rhythm, copying the motion of the sea, hiding in the crashing noise of the wave,the sound of your heated skin against each other.

Kissing your lips, trying to keep himself in check, letting you in full control,as his fingers press harder into the soft skin of your ass cheeks, he groaned. Did you only know how pretty you are, bouncing like that on his laps, your lips parted,panting and moaning as quietly that possible, your eyes closed by pleasure, your right hand hidden under your shirt playing with one of your nipple and the other grabbing the left shoulder of his dress shirt in your fist. Did you know how he would worship you and your body for days if you let him.

“ Sanji, i’m so close..I “ You moaned into his ears, your hips becoming more frenetic.

“ In my laps or...on your back “ Sanji simply asked letting you decide of the way you will welcome your orgasm, his breath becoming more heavy as his own release was approaching.

“ Laps” You only replied, your forehead meeting is as a complicity you only started to learn.

Your locked arms around his neck, your scream hushed by his hungry mouth, you could feel his hips rocking against yours shaky thighs, pumping in you with fervor. Each trust, amplified by the way he was holding your arse, was pushing you further to the border of the pleasure cliff. In an ultimate moment, driven by the overwhelming presence of you near orgasm and his strong body against and in you, you tried to escape his grip, your mind in a hyperdrive as the feeling you had tried for weeks to shut down invaded your system.

Easily putting you back in place, his mouth possessively kidnapped yours. Sanji burying himself even deeper in your core, his own mind spinning as the strong scent of your arousal made him lose the little control he had left.

“ Come for me Y/N darling “ He whispered on your lips “ If I can hear you scream my name, I at least want to see in your face how good it make you feel riding my dick “

In a last bounce and a cry, you came, your hands spread on his bare chest, your mouth open in a silent scream, trying to mute the word your brain was urging you to say. But,when, in a slower pace to not overstimulating you, he reached his own peak of pleasure, his panting breath caressing the skin of your shoulder as the warm sensation of his cum coat your inside, you couldn’t hold it longer.

“ I love you “ You hiccup, tears sliding down your cheeks as he gently kisses your neck.

For a moment, you both stay silent. His nose buried in the crock of your shoulder, his mouth still pressed against your skin, as you realize the word you just said. It wasn’t the worst way to say it, but since you were the one who had insisted on the casual part, it was kind of mortifying.

“ Did you mean it ?” Sanji whispered in your ear, his hands gently caressing your back. Too afraid that it was empty words you had moan and not the actual feeling you had, when he, at this very moment,could destroy the world or found the One Piece for you.

“ Yes I...I didn’t expect to say it like that, I mean, on a moment like that but...yes I...I was thinking it for a moment now “ You carefully replied, shivering under the cold air against your now sweaty skin.

You felt his wide smile against your throat before actually seeing it.

“ I love you too, “ He finally said, gently kissing your lips. Joy illuminating his face “ You know, I actually think it will become my favorite memory”

“ Mine too” You smile, your heart beating faster, welcoming his mouth against yours.

“ Even if that memory of you your back arch against the bar is kinda hot ” He joked, nibbling your lower lips.

“ your an idiot” You laugh “ I think we need to put our clothes back before we catch a cold.”

“ Your right “

Getting up, putting back your discarded clothes, you silently reach your bedroom, taking all the cautions you can, never letting go of Sanji's hand. After a well deserved hot shower, you both head to bed,his arms passed around you, without any worries in your mind, only the happiness that your two hearts beat in sync.

The inevitable worries would wait for later.

---

Part 3 ?

#one piece netflix #opla #opla!sanji x reader #sanji x reader #opla sanji #vinesmoke sanji x reader #one piece #one piece sanji #opla vinesmoke sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji smut #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #sanji request #request

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hbojoel · 1 month

Text

18+ minors DNI! dom!richie jerimovich x sub!reader, established relationship, impact play, face slapping, subspace, crying, pet names (sweetheart, baby, pretty girl, pet), richie refers to himself as your old man, titles used are daddy and sir, more foreplay than anything

a late happy birthday to the old man himself who plays the asshole who rots my brain ❤️‍🩹 long live ebon (not proofread so pls let me know if u find any mistakes😭)

Richie's apartment has a balcony.

And thank fuck it does, because he lives in a no-smoking building, and God only knows what would happen if that man didn't have his six cigs a day. A longer life span, certainly. More people with their heads bitten off. He guesses the pros outweigh the cons, no matter how much you try to talk him out of it; he has his vices.

So when you come home and find the apartment seemingly empty, the only light coming from behind the curtain, you know where to find him. He sits on the padded armchair, hunched over in his work clothes, a few buttons of his shirt undone, his hand cupped around the cherry to shelter it from the wind. Something about the crease in his brow or the turn of his lips lets you know it wasn't an easy day. He doesn't look up at the sound of you sliding the door open, or the latch clicking into place. He tenses, minutely, at your hand dropping lightly on his shoulder, your thumb rubbing back and forth to try to ease the tension away.

"Good day?" You ask, letting the sarcasm drip from your voice.

Richie's sardonic laugh turns into a grimace as you circle the chair, kneeling down so you're face to face. "Yeah, shit. I guess you could say that, baby." He raises his arm slowly to tilt your chin upwards with him thumb, soft and slow. "What about you, hm?"

You shake your head and scrunch your face up. "Not important."

You angle your head downwards, catching his thumb in your mouth. Immediately, his posture shifts. His shoulders lift, and, unconsciously, he seems to straighten, puffing his chest out as he rests his half-smoked cigarette on the ashtray. He entertains you for a while, letting you suck and nip and kiss at the skin of his thumb before he withdraws it, smiling cruelly at the whine that found its way past your lips.

He cups your face in both of his hands, encompassing what feels like your whole head, his fingers grazing the curve of your skull. "You wanna help your daddy feel better?"

You don't get a chance to respond because he uses his grip on you to nod your head up and down for you. Like a doll. Like a toy.

Richie smiles. The city skyline reflects back at you in his blue eyes, boring down, searing through your skin and searching your very soul.

You remember through the thick fog of your impeding submission, somehow, to give verbal consent. Your voice is small and weak and sounds far away, even to your own ears, as you say, "Please, daddy."

Richie lets one hand fall down to the back of your neck and you can't even think to hold back your moan of pleasure as he squeezes with just enough pressure, setting stars shooting across your vision just from the feeling, just from the knowledge of what he has proven comes after this.

He inches himself further off the chair, boxing you in with the width of his legs. You shiver, and it's not because of the wind. And he laughs. Because he knows.

"Barely touched you yet, sweetheart," he croons, his thumb gently rubbing the bump of your jaw. "Open."

Like a dog trained, you let your jaw slack and tongue loll out of your mouth, saliva building at the corners of your lips. Richie smooths your hair back in the same moment as he spits into your open mouth.

Your face screws up, tears beginning to cloud your vision, because he hasn't given you any orders yet. You sit there, knees digging into the rug you picked out, trying not to let his spit fall out of your mouth.

Richie watches another few seconds, delighting in the agony on your face as you try not to disappoint him while trying not to make any decisions he hasn't cleared for you. A tear begins its slow descent down your cheek and he takes pity on you, taking your chin in his hand and forcing it closed.

"Swallow," he orders, voice hard and unforgiving.

He looks down at you expectantly, and you once again open your mouth wide and stick your tongue out to show that you behaved.

"Good girl," he says sweetly, and your blood turns into molten lava in your veins. "You doin' okay so far? Your knees hurtin' at all?"

You blink dazedly for a second before you realize he's expecting you to answer. "A little, sir," you breathe, just above a whisper.

Richie considers, for a moment, letting his hand rest on your throat while he does so. "You wanna stay down there for me and get comfortable, or you wanna come up in my lap?"

The options weigh heavy in your mind, but one thing ultimately takes precedence, and that's staying here, where Richie makes you feel small and safe and taken care of.

You nod to yourself. "Down here, please."

Quick as a whip, the palm of Richie's hand makes contact with your cheek and your whole body jolts from the impact. You try to bring your own hand up to ease the sting, but he catches your wrist with ease. "Please what?"

Tears are flowing freely down your face, no doubt ruining whatever mascara still clung to your lashes after a long day. "Please, daddy," you hiccup. "I'm sorry, sir."

"That's okay, sweet thing," he tells you, voice soft as butter as he releases your wrist and cups your cheek in the same hand he slapped you with. "Dumb pets can't be expected to remember rules, can they?"

You shake your head miserably, sniffling even as Richie catches your tears with his thumb.

He shifts slightly and you whine, eyes following his movement intently. He grabs a pillow from the chair next to his, scoots his back, and places it on the floor in front of you. He snaps his fingers and points to the center of it. "Come. Now."

You crawl over obediently, rearranging your legs so they're crossed over one another, giving your knees a break.

"Better?" He asks, picking up his forgotten cigarette with deft fingers.

"Yes, sir," you nod eagerly, staring up at him with glassy eyes. "Thank you."

Richie takes a drag and tilts his head back to blow out the smoke, his adam's apple bobbing with the movement. You lick your lips. "You ready to get yourself off, pretty girl?"

Your head cocks to the side in confusion. Get yourself off? You were supposed to be making him feel better. But he laughs, again, so amused by you and your mind moving as slow as molasses once he gets you here, in the space carved only for the two of you.

"Yeah, you heard me right. I thought it over and decided, watching my baby grind on my boot would really make your old man feel better."

Fuck. Your breath comes out in trembles, but it's lost to you, because you can't hear anything over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. Immediately you're dizzy, swaying in the air like nothing more than a dandelion in a field.

"Sir?" You ask. Your lips try to form words but you can't articulate them, not through the fog in your mind, not when Richie threw you for this big of a loop.

"What?" Richie asks, a smile playing on his lips. "You think you know better than daddy?"

Immediately, your head shakes so fast your vision gets blurred, and Richie has to take your face in his hands again to stop you from moving so erratically. "Good. That's what I thought."

For a moment the furrow in his brow unfurls, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to the skin between your brows. "Your safeword?"

"Cleaver," you whisper.

Richie nods in approval. "And if you can't speak?"

You will your limbs to listen to your mind, and see rather than know that your hand has found Richie's calf and squeezed once, twice, three times with all the strength you can muster.

"Good girl, sweetheart. Very good." He leans down and catches your lips in a kiss, not letting your tongue go past his lips, pulling away before it got too deep. You try to follow him, your eyes closed in bliss, but the hand on your neck makes you stop.

"You ready to get to work?" Richie's tone is bored and he leans back and lets his arms fall on the rests, but you know better. It makes it even sweeter when he acts disinterested, like he's only doing it because you need it. It burns and it stings but it hurts so good, and you want more more more.

You wrap your arms around his thigh, lift your hips so your clothed clit sits right over the toe of his boot. "Yes, Richie."

And this time when the hit comes, you laugh, dazed by pleasure.

#richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x you #richie jerimovich smut #the bear #the bear fx #richie jerimovich x you smut #richie jerimovich x reader smut

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jude5bellingham · 16 days

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Jude is sitting on the apex of a dune, leaning back, using his arms to support his weight, taking in the waves of sand created by the worms. Although he missed the sights of the rugged terrain and water that caladan offered, arrakis had its own unique charm, with the wind slowing down, the sand and spice being dragged in the air looking almost mist-like. You approach him silently from behind, but he starts before you can say anything.

"a messiah?" jude can only scoff and shake his head, the idea that he is a messiah is so ridiculous to him. He was hardly equipped to lead his house (when he was a duke-to-be), much less a population of religious fanatics who believed him to be their prophesied saviour.

Your eyes stay set on him, unblinking. You don't say anything, hoping that the silence will give him the time and ability to digest his fate. You hope that in the silence, that he will hear it.

"they can't be serious..." his gaze drops to the floor, suddenly understanding the gravity of the situation which he is in. Your gaze drops with his as you're unable to do anything other than nod, you're sure that he desires some form of comfort but you aren't able to provide him with it, not now, especially not now. he stands up, his back to you, staring at the horizon in front of him created by the varying dunes of sand.

"Tell me..." he starts, keeping his back to you, standing completely still, "do you believe, honestly, that I am the messiah? Your messiah?"

You take a step to stand next to him, huffing a breath out as you do, carefully sifting through the words running through your head to attempt to form a sentence light enough for him to hold onto for now, fearing that a heavier statement may only cause him to bend under its weight.

"I don't know..." you begin, Jude's head turning to look at you, "I think a messiah is just about hope, you know, something to believe in…"

His eyes watch as your chest rises and falls while you think carefully about your choice of words, treading lightly around the idea of him being a hero, prophet, and messiah. He juts his bottom lip out to urge you to continue your train of thought, he’s sure that whatever words you speak next will be far more intelligible than anything he has going on in his brain currently anyways.

"You've seen it Jude. The way people look at you, the looks that your presence commands…” You turn towards him as you speak, finally meeting his gaze, “You inspire hope and I think that’s more than enough.”

“Even if it's false?” he turns towards to look at the horizon again, his question leaves his lips as a quiet mumble, fearing any answer you could possibly give him to his question.

“Hope is never false.” you state, copying him and looking at the horizon, “Not to the believer.”

He can't help but chew on his bottom lip, thinking about it all. so ridiculous. all of it. Just a while ago he was the son of the Duke, now he is expected to lead the Fremen to freedom. How was he supposed to manage that?

hi this is a short part from my dune!jude au 😭 i havent proofread it but im about 3k words in but i wanted to see if i'd get any engagement!! thank you so much if you've read this far 🤍🤍 please let me know your thoughts

#not proofread #football fanfic #football imagine #football imagines #football one shot #football x reader #jb5 #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham scenarios #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham imagine

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erikahenningsen · 2 months

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🎲🎲🎲 !!!!!!

8. A platonic kiss (spoiler alert: it isn't)

"Can I ask you something?"

Regina looks up from her history textbook, pen paused in the middle of writing the word reformation. She's seated on Cady's bed, notebook in her lap.

She's been spending more and more of her afternoons in Cady's room, doing homework in companionable silence. It's the only way Cady's mom lets her hang out with friends until she brings her calculus grade back up. Strangely, Regina finds she'd rather be here, studying for her AP exam, than walking around the mall or teaching Gretchen how to Dutch braid her hair.

If she spends half the time staring at Cady out of the corner of her eye, heart beating a little faster every time she does that cute nose scrunch thing when she's on a particularly difficult problem, that's nobody's business but her own.

"What's up?" Regina asks.

"What's it like kissing Aaron?" Cady asks.

The m in reformation turns into a jagged line down Regina's notebook page. She stares at Cady, certain she's heard wrong. "What?"

"You've kissed him. I've seen you do it," Cady says, as if that's where the confusion is coming from. "What's it like?"

"Why are you asking me this?" Regina says, feeling her cheeks warm. She's not sure why she's blushing; she isn't the one asking ridiculous questions here. "Haven't you kissed him?"

Cady shakes her head. "I've never kissed anyone," she admits quietly.

"Okay, so..." Regina says. "Then kiss your boyfriend?"

Cady lets out an annoyed huff. "But I can't! He's used to kissing you." Cady throws her arm out towards Regina and Regina isn't sure if she should be offended. "And you're good at that stuff." She pauses. "I mean, you are, right?"

"Uh," Regina says dumbly.

"And what if I'm bad at it?" Cady continues, more softly.

Regina shrugs. "Who cares?"

"I care!" Cady says. "There have been a few times where I could tell he was about to kiss me and I just freaked out and made up some excuse."

"Cady, what do you want me to do about it?" Regina asks, a little desperately. This conversation is bringing up all of her fantasies about kissing Cady, the ones she only allows herself to think about late at night when she's trying to fall asleep—definitely not in Cady's bedroom with her sitting right there.

Cady takes a deep breath. "Will you kiss me?"

Regina's pen falls from her slackened grip, bouncing off the bed and clattering to the floor. She opens her mouth, then closes it again, then opens it and manages to force out a "huh?"

"Please?" Cady asks. "You know what he likes. It's perfect."

It isn't perfect. It's objectively a bad idea. Her crush on Cady almost burned down the entire school, and they hadn't really ever even hugged.

"And we're friends," Cady adds, "so it wouldn't be weird, right?"

Friends. Friends! Regina's brain grabs onto the word. She can do this, as a friendly favor to Cady. Nothing more. It's a win-win, really—Cady gets some experience and Regina can finally get whatever this fixation on Cady is out of her system.

Before she can really think it through, Regina finds herself nodding. "Yeah," she says, her voice cracking. She clears her throat. "Right. Sure."

Cady's face lights up. "Oh my gosh, thanks!"

They stare at each other for a moment.

"Well, come here," Regina says. She draws the line at climbing into Cady's lap in her little desk chair.

Cady stands immediately, seeming to forget the calculator in her lap, which hits the rug with a thud. She comes and sits next to Regina on the bed and angles her body to face her, their faces a few inches apart.

Regina suddenly feels nervous. She's never been nervous about kissing someone before—but those were just boys. They didn't matter. She has to make this good for Cady, so Cady will want to kiss her again.

Regina catches the thought and buries it. So Cady can kiss Aaron, she corrects herself.

"Um, here," Regina murmurs, scooting a bit closer and lifting one of Cady's hands to her shoulder. It feels cool against her overheated skin.

"Okay," Cady whispers, and Regina can feel it against her lips in a way that makes her shiver. She puts a hand on the back of Cady's neck, takes a deep breath, and leans in.

Cady's lips are cool and dry but soft, and Regina has to focus on not immediately pressing Cady into the mattress. She applies just a hint of pressure, not much more than a meaningful press of lips. Cady inhales sharply but doesn't move.

Regina pulls back a bit. "Cady, you have to work with me here," she says, her voice only shaking a little.

"Oh, uh, okay," Cady says, seeming confused.

Before she can think about it, Regina reaches a hand up to Cady's lips and parts them just slightly. "Now tilt your head a bit," she says, and when Cady does, she leans in again.

This time, Regina's lips slot between Cady's, catching Cady's top lip in between both of hers. This time, Cady's mouth moves with hers, tentative at first, clumsy, but it sends something hot and electric down Regina's spine.

Emboldened, Regina presses closer, fingers flexing against the back of Cady's neck, and Cady responds with a soft sound that Regina knows will never stop playing in her brain, even on her deathbed.

Regina pulls back a little, her lips sliding over Cady's now tacky with spit and Regina's lip gloss, adjusts the angle of her head. Without thinking, she grips Cady's upper thigh with her other hand, and Cady arches into her. Heat burns through Regina's body, blooming in her chest and spreading down to pool below her stomach, and alarm bells start going off in her head.

Regina pulls back more suddenly than she means to, and Cady falls into her a little before she catches herself. Cady is breathing hard, her pupils dilated, her lips reddened. Regina desperately wishes she could delete the last five minutes from her brain because she has no idea how she's going to be able to think about anything else for the rest of her life, and she has her AP European History exam in two weeks.

"Wow," Cady says, a little breathlessly. She runs a hand through her hair. "I see why Aaron liked kissing you. Thanks." She laughs a little, even though she's just said the least funny and most destructive thing for Regina's sanity she could possibly say.

"No problem," Regina says, her voice faint. "What are friends for?"

Cady smiles at her. Regina smiles back, reflexively.

Well, shit.

#i guess this takes place in a parallel canon where cady and aaron didn't kiss at spring fling (the canon where i live)#mean girls #mean girls 2024 #cadina #regina george #cady heron #ask #emilyjunk #prompts

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pennyluna · 1 month

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Misunderstandings Part 4

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader 18+

Wordcount: 2172

Genre: Working together au. - Cold Player Au - Future something au.

Warning: This story contains strong language and Spicy/sexual scenes. Be aware before reading.

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

I freeze. My body starts moving trying to figure out my next move, should I change? nah is too late. Should I justㅡ Maybe I should just open the door. I make my way to the door and exhale when I notice is just the delivery guy with my food. After closing the door I made my way to the kitchen but to steps in its direction i hear another knock sending a chill down my spine.

I place the food on the kitchen counter and walk to the door somehow this time I am more relaxed, looking out of the peephole I see Yoongi and suddenly the possible consequences of someone in my building seeing him outside my door at this time of night rushes through my head so my body rushes to open the door grab his hand and bring him inside the house shutting the door behind him in a spam of seconds.

"Missed me much?" he says with a fascinated smirk on his face.

"Huh?" I said confused. Finally looking down to where he was looking I take my hand back fast. Turns out my hand was still on the spot on his shirt where I grabbed him to pull him inside the house and I was still holding him against the wall.

"What are you doing here Yoongi? How do you even know my address?" I say starting to come back to my senses. He continues to look at me seemingly amused and grabs my hand again interlacing our fingers. I am getting annoyed at his lack of response so I pull my hand away and walk towards my kitchen. I open a bottle of red wine and pour two glasses silently handing one of them towards Yoongi.

"I will call your driver and we can get you back to your hotel before anyone notices." I state.

"You want me to leave?" he stares at me then proceeds to rest sip on his wine "Oh.. Is Nate coming over?" he laughs mockingly.

"Stop it. I don't want to continue playing this game with you." I am evidently annoyed. I don't understand him first he ignores me and now he is jealous and showing up at my house. What the hell!!!!!!!!

He scoffs and places his glass on the kitchen island then walking towards where I am standing. He is walking slowly or maybe that is just my silly brain looking at him in slow-motion. He places his hands on my hips "You are cute when you are mad, you know that?"

My confused expression is gone once his lips reach mine, his hands roaming around my hips pulling me into him.

"I care. You are mine and the idea of another man touching you is scarier than anything else in my life right now". I don't know if he means that but his tone seems sincere and I cant do nothing but give up into his touch. I start kissing him and push him out of the kitchen and into my couch, we start taking our clothes off in a rush, I needed to touch him I needed him inside of me even if this was the last time we would do this. He seemed to be in the same rush as me and the lust in his eyes was fueling my need, we plop into the couch, making out and touching each others bodies. The room filled with our heavy breathing and moans. I get on top of him and rub his member to my entrance before sliding it in and riding him, his hands are on my boobs and then on my neck pulling me down to kiss him. Everything is so intense and feels just so good. He tries to move me around and we end up rolling off the couch to my fluffy rug on the floor, not stopping but to laugh a little about the incident before continuing our activities. Having him on top of me with my legs wrapped around him and while he is fucking me and looking at me like I belong to him is making my legs shake and I cant no longer control my building orgasm and end up exploding around his member in a symphony of moans, him following right after me.

He rolls over and lays next to me, kissing my shoulder and then pulling the blanket off the couch and covering our bodies with it. I start myself falling asleep and I hear a whispers "You are mine. I am yours". his words like a promise and the last thing I hear before falling asleep.

.................. The morning after ..................

I rub my eyes waking up, the only signs that what seems like a sleepy dream actually happened is my naked body covered by a blanket in the middle of my living room floor Looking towards my windows I can see the cloudy rainy day is reflecting my feelings once I notice Yoongi is no longer next to me. I love rainy days but the idea of him leaving without saying goodbye after we spent the night together just rubs me the wrong way but I understand, he probably left very early to avoid being seen.

I get up wrapping the blanket around my body, move the empty wine glasses to the kitchen and head to my room it takes me a couple of seconds to notice the noise coming from my bathroom and the light coming through the slightly open door. I walk towards it slowly and realize that the noise I was hearing was coming from my shower, when I push the door open a bit only to see Yoongi standing under the steamy shower. I rub my eyes again silently thanking God when I open my eyes again and Yoongi is still there.

"Good morning... Join me?" his words sounded like a question but I know it was more an order.

he stands staring at me with his hand pushing his hair back from his face, this man is a vision, his gorgeous forehead in sight, his body, his slightly erected member, all of him on plane view and surrounded by the steam made it a bit harder for me to be convinced this wasn't a dream. I drop the blanket from my body and his member jerks up a bit, his eyes scanning my body as I walk into the shower. His hands welcome me under the warm water and his mouth follows planting a soft kiss to my lips before tracing other small kisses around my collar bone, then my boobs and then around my belly button kneeling in front of me and moving my leg over his shoulder. Our eyes connect for a second and I am starting to believe he really is here but when His tongue connects with my clit and he starts working around it with that powerful mouth of his, I am one hundred percent certain he is. I hold onto his wet hair while a powerful orgasm starts to build inside of me and it comes to a satisfying releasing a second after he introduces his fingers inside of me. I don't have time to recover from it because I am now slammed against the wet tiles with his hard member being pushed inside of me with one powerful move, his hand pulling my hair and head backwards so he can kiss my exposed neck while he continues to go in and out of my core. The intensity of all his moves seem to be getting to both of us, because soon we are both panting and I'm begging him to let me come as he is going into me faster and deeper until we both get to an incredible orgasm, His soft grunts in my ear adding to my pleasure and sending shivers through my body.

After washing ourselves and resting in the bedroom for a bit, I watched him put his pants on while I put on a large t-shirt and some shorts, I knew he was going lo leave soon so in my mind I was trying to get used to the idea and bringing back my serious and sometimes bitchy side of my personality out again.

"Do you like brunch?" he asks casually. His words pulling me out of my thoughts and the idea that he might be wanting to start some chitchat to cover the silence while he waits for his car bother me a bit.

"Yes. Doesn't everyone?" I don't wait for him to answer before I ask another question "Is your driver on the way? I need to check that no one is around before you leave. Tell him to go at the back entrance of the building, that will probably be more discreet." I continue talking about options for him to safely leave my apartment with minor risk of being seen but after a while of talking and not having an answer from him, I stop to look at him only to find him staring at me, shirtless and phone in hand. He opens his mouth to say something but he stops. "What?" I ask again.

"Are you kicking me out?"

"No. But you should get back to your hotel before people figure out you are not there. This is the responsible thing to do." I say in my formal tone that now has a hint of annoyance in my voice after a couple of seconds of silence.

He looks at me, silently scanning my face and then suddenly something changes in his eyes. I open my mouth ready to speak again but he put his hand up to stop me from doing so. He drops his phone on the bed and then speaks.

"Were are not doing this." I look at him confused. "We have one day off work. I asked about brunch because I want us to eat something together. I want to spend the day with you. I want to feed you so you get some strength in you before we spend the rest of the day fucking and talking about anything and everything." he steps closer to me and holds my chin up. "I don't know what this is exactly and I cant promise you anything but I know is more than just sex to me. So, if you want me to leave say it. Otherwise, I need you to drop the attitude and allow us to enjoy today."

His voice is firm but filled with honesty and his eyes continue to scan me, I can see he is waiting for an answer so I nod in agreement activating a smirk in his face as he pulls me in for a deep kiss.

After our conversation we spent the rest of the day doing just that. We ate brunch sitting at the kitchen island. Watched a movie and argued about the stupid logic of the girl that hears a noise coming from her dark basement and then goes to check it. Yoongi said he could take whatever it was that was hiding in there while i laughed at him showing me how he would throw punches, then I said I would run so fast that there would be a hole in the wall shaped like me. We had sex in different parts of my apartment, the kitchen, on my bed and on the floor of my bedroom, against the little table where I set my keys and again in the shower talking and taking naps in between each session. We almost never checked our phones because Yoongi had talked to his manager about wanting to not be disturb because he was going to be resting in his room but now his alarm started ringing, waking us up from our nap in the couch after the latest sex session. He stops his alarm and then starts giving me soft kisses on the neck.

"I have to go." he says softly against my mouth. I moan a little when we kiss. We get up from the couch and he pulls a t-shirt over my head before putting his clothes on. His phone rings again and we know this time is his driver, we had agreed he would go out alone, since it would be less suspicious. Stopping in front of my door we silently hug and he kisses my forehead before heading outside.

I lock my door and look around my living room noticing every sign of his now missing presence here, the empty box of the pizza we had for dinner, the empty beer cans, a random movie playing on the tv, my blanket on the floor in front of the couch, the small pillows that usually sit on the couch are on the floor and I wrap my hand around my body trying to avoid the sadness and the uncertainty of what could happen tomorrow when we are back at work. I head to my bedroom, closing the door behind me and curling myself up in my bed, smelling his sent in my pillows, then falling asleep.

.................................................................................

A.N: I hope you guys like part 4. Please feel free to leave any feedback. I would be really thankful if you could leave a like/repost this :)

#bangtan #bts army #bts yoongi #fanfiction #armysource #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts suga #bts x you #bts x fem!reader #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts ffs #kpop smut #kpop imagines #min yoongi #agust d

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